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Posted by / 26-Jun-2017 14:13

Her arms whipped around my midsection in a violent hug and she introduced me to her friends. Introductions were scarcely concluded when the trio burst from the foyer into the living room to unload and talk about girl stuff.I wanted to finish some paperwork before relaxing again, so I left them to it. It had been a comfortable hour of lazily thumbing my favorite author's new book up in the loft that overlooked the living room, lounging on the big, fluffy chair: the "Smooshy Chair", as my little girl called it, a heavenly bed of fuzz in which you could pretty much sprawl any way you pleased and still be comfortable.She was bent forward, listening eagerly to what was apparently an animated contest to see if it was Alexis or Shae that could whisper in the loudest voice.The topic of conversation wouldn't have been a secret to anyone watching. I wear it at home for Daddy." "I'll bet you would wear it to school if you could," giggled Alexis. Remember when she wore that short skirt and all the boys were looking?She was probably dancing to that Beyonce video that she was obsessed with.Some part of me had expected Shae to surprise me with some new lingerie or a dance routine like she usually did on special occasions, modelling outfits or showing off dance moves that she had practiced after seeing them on TV.

The stampede turned out to be just be just my daughter and two other girls, sleeping bags and packs slung over their shoulders, tromping and screeching noisily with Shae in the foyer about something that had happened at school that day. " yelled Shae, as though I had never taught her about the concept of an indoor voice. The girl was two classes ahead of Shae, and I saw that she hadn't had the chance to change after getting picked up from school: she was still in the checkered skirt, leggings, and white blouse of her school uniform. Shae poked me harshly in the leg and suddenly I remembered Sophie, the little girl that was sometimes talking to Shae when I picked my daughter up from school. She was 7, a year younger than Shae, a small brunette in a modest pink dress, wavy hair held back by a plain headband.

I could just smile and nod, enjoying the sweet sight of her perfect little body trying on five different panties to figure out which one went with her bra.

Dance routines were an exercise in agonizing restraint.

Every new outfit had to undergo the Daddy Test before she found it acceptable, a lengthy trial of incessant demands about whether it looked ok on her hips or if the necklace matched the skirt or whether she should wear her hair up or down with it.

Luckily, no real critique was required on my part; I didn't have Shae's talent for fashion.

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I glanced down again into the living room where the girls had ended up after dinner.