Six years later.
“Daddy, can I have more cookie dough?”
Lucy was jumping by my leg. She’d grown taller in the last month, but she was still small enough that could just touch the top of the kitchen counter with her hand. She smiled up at me, her little pink tongue pressed against the gap between her two front teeth.
“You’ve already had a few bites” I said. “Cookie dough isn’t very good for you, anyway. You’ve had enough.”
She pouted and dropped her head. Her little blonde curls fell into his face. If my hands hadn’t been caked with dough and powder I would’ve pushed them out of her face.
“I promise the cookies will taste just as good” I promised.
Just then, I nearly fell over when something, or someone I should say, grabbed my leg. I glanced down and chuckled. Zain had his tiny arms
