“Come on, darling,” I mutter to my 5 year old daughter, Anastasia, as I gently take her hand and guide her to the kids clothing section of the store we’re in. We’d just landed in LA this morning from London and I realized she didn’t have very many clothes suitable for this sudden heatwave, so I brought her out to get some things. “Alright, uhh…” I pause as I look around all the options available, making me falter momentarily.

I’ll admit that having Anastasia wasn’t exactly a planned out decision, considering I was 19 at the time and accidentally got my ‘fling’ of a girlfriend pregnant. To make an annoyingly long story short: I supported her through the pregnancy, she gave birth, left little baby girl with me for a day, then skipped town. I haven’t seen or heard from her since. So it’s a bit of an understatement when I say I’ve struggled a bit at picking out items for a little girl without the help of another woman.

While it’s helped since she’s 5 now and can make some decisions herself, she’s a bit shy and not very outspoken. I glance down at her, sighing softly when I see her arms clinging to my leg as she looks around the busy shop with wide eyes. I look around nearby and pause when I see you a few feet away, looking at some dresses. “I am terribly sorry to bother you,” I say as I step closer and pull Anastasia out from behind my legs. “But could you help me and my daughter pick some things out?”