I sigh and rinse the soap from her hair. "Alright, anything you want, princess."
She grins, victorious. "Deal."
I lift her out of the tub and wrap her in a towel, rubbing her dry before carrying her back to her room. I have done this enough times now that I could do it in my sleep. The little underwear with the butterflies, the pink dress with the ruffles, the white socks that match, the shoes that light up when she walks.
Then her hair. Two ponytails, even and symmetrical. I spent six months perfecting this and watched tutorials and practiced on dolls until I could create a ponytail that would make a hairdresser weep.
I pack her bag with her little lunchbox that has the rabbit on it, her water bottle, her glitter pens since she insists on bringing them everywhere, and her favorite chapstick that she is too young to need but loves anyway.
"Ready?" I ask.
She holds up her pinky. "Promise about the mission?"
I hook my pinky around hers. "Promise."
"And the stuffed bear?"
"And the stuffed bear."
She nods, satisfied. "Okay, I'm ready."
I send Anya downstairs to have breakfast with her mother while I shower and get dressed.
I pull on a fitted navy polo and leave it untucked with dark jeans and clean white sneakers. I used to wear custom Italian suits every day with expensive watches and cufflinks and tie pins, but now I wear whatever makes it easier to chase a three-year-old through the park.
I push my hair back and head downstairs.
In the kitchen Iris is sitting at the table with Anya in the chair beside her, and there is a plate of scrambled eggs and vegetables in front of my daughter. She is picking at it and moving the vegetables around with her fork and avoiding them like they are poison.
I walk up behind her and tap her nose with my finger.
She giggles and squirms. "Papa!"
"Princess," I say while crouching down beside her. "You have to eat your veggies if you want to help me out later."
Her face scrunches and she looks at the broccoli like it personally offended her, but she spears a piece with her fork and shoves it in her mouth and chews and swallows and makes a face like she just survived something traumatic.
"Good girl," I tell her.
She eats the rest of them reluctantly and dramatically, but she eats them.
Iris watches the whole thing with raised eyebrows. "Why does she always listen to you?"
I straighten up and kiss the top of Anya's head. "She and I are kindred spirits, aren't we, princess?"
Anya grins up at me with broccoli still visible in her teeth. "Yes, spirits!"
Iris shakes her head but she is smiling. "You two are ridiculous."
"Ridiculously in sync," I correct.
The three of us head outside to the car where Viktor is already waiting. He has been my driver for five years now and he does not ask questions and does not blink at anything.
Iris gets Anya settled into her car seat while I hold the door, and then she slides in beside her.
We pull up to the preschool with its bright colors and happy signs and children running around like tiny maniacs while exhausted teachers try to maintain order
Viktor opens Iris's door and she gets out first and opens Anya's door, but Anya does not move.
