“What do you think?” Hope asks Grace when she’s finished.
Grace pats the top of her head and stares in the mirror. My lips quirk at my little girl’s serious expression.
“Too tight?” Hope asks.
Grace bobs her head.
“Okay. Let’s try a different one.”
“Nooooo,” Grace wails as Hope unwinds the bow.
Hope reties the bow looser. “Better?”
“Yef.”
“Good. Can Mommy get ready now?” Hope picks up a teardrop-shaped sponge and leans closer to the mirror, gently dabbing her face. She gently bops Grace on the nose and cheeks with it, pulling more giggles from my daughter.
“Dada!” Grace shouts, turning my way.
Hope jumps and drops the sponge in the sink, but she’s nothing but smiles as I step into the bathroom.
“How long have you been watching us?” she asks, draping her arms over my shoulders and leaning up to kiss my cheek.
“I could watch you two together like this all day long.” I press my lips to hers for another quick kiss, then nod to her makeup and stuff scattered all over the counter. “But why don’t I give you a break?”
Her lips curve. “She already picked her outfit. It’s the floral one on the bed.”
“Done.” I scoop Grace off the counter, holding her high, then pulling her in for a kiss. Repeating the back-and-forth motion while she squeals with happiness.
I drop her into the middle of our bed and she scampers over to the tiny outfit, lifting both pieces in the air and waving them at me.
I stare at the bright green top scattered with big, orange and yellow flowers and matching shorts. “Bold choice.”
She bobs her head and thrusts the outfit into my hands.
“You okay?” I ask Hope after I finish wrestling Grace into the two pieces.
“Yes,” Hope murmurs, leaning close to the mirror to stroke mascara over her lashes.
“Who’re you getting dolled up for?”
“Myself.”
All right then.
“Does Grace need a snack?” I ask.
“Sure. I sliced some pears earlier and there’s a tub of ricotta in the fridge.”
“Done.” I lift Grace into my arms. She laughs and traces her fingers over my cheeks. “All right, giggle machine, snack time.”
By the time Hope joins us downstairs, Grace has destroyed three pear slices with cheese. Roughly half ended up in her belly, the other half on her face. Little dots of cheese even made it into her hair.
“Good stuff, huh?” I set her on the counter next to the sink, to take off her bib and clean her face.
“No.” She pushes my hands away when I dab at her with a paper towel.
Hope chuckles and leans against the counter, watching us with a smile.