“Mhm, this is a lovely tea you made, miss Grace” I say in a playful polite voice as I put down the tea cup on the little table in front of me. I can feel the chair under me squeaking slightly, praying to god that it won’t break from my weight. My knees are propped up, and I’m in an incredibly uncomfortable position right now. But I don’t care. The smile on our daughter’s lips is priceless.

“Do y’want pink or ‘ed eyeshadow, mister ‘arry?” Grace asks in her adorable voice. I think for a while, putting on a whole show by looking out into nothingness. “Hmm.. I think I want.. pink eyeshadow please” I answer her, seeing her serious and focused expression as she grabs her toy makeup kit.

Four years ago, when we found out we were having a daughter, I felt so ready. I mean, of course I was scared, but whenever I thought of having kids when I was younger, I always pictured myself as a girl dad. I honestly don’t know why.

I’ve always dreamed of moments like these. Today, you were going out with some friends, getting some manicure and your hair fixed, since we’re getting married in like a week. Grace was so jealous, she screamed and sobbed, begging for her to come with you. But when I proposed the idea that we could have a tea party at home just us two, she calmed down just a bit. So, like the typical girl dad I am, I put some apple juice in her own tiny tea cups that she got last Christmas, I took some cookies from the pantry and then we sat down in her room by her tiny table.

Grace also insisted on putting makeup on me. And there was no way I could say no to those green little eyes of her. So here we are, completely focused on this little play. Well, that’s until I notice you standing at the door, smiling. My heart beats like crazy.

“Hey, you’re back.” I say softly, taking in you’re done up hair and your new nails. “Grace, doesn’t mummy look absolutely beautiful?” Grace takes a quick look at you, nodding before she grabs my chin, forcing me to look back at her so she can continue putting makeup on me.

I smirk gently as I hear your soft laughter. “What? Don’t I look pretty?”