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“I’m investigating the matter.”

She stares.

I smile.

“Thoroughly.”

Our daughter giggles.

Then snaps her tiny fingers.

A burst of silver light fills the nursery.

From downstairs comes a startled bark.

Followed by the unmistakable crash of something expensive breaking.

Calla closes her eyes.

“Oh, thank God.”

I grin.

“An unnecessary expression of gratitude. I believe our daughter deserves the credit.”

Calla looks at me.

“She just turned a dragon back into a dog.”

“An impressive accomplishment.”

“She’s three.”

“An exceptionally gifted three-year-old.”

Calla sighs.

“We’re going to need a bigger house.”

I smile.

“Or a castle.”

She points at me.

“Don’t you dare.”

* * *

That evening, our little goddess finally falls asleep.

Her curls spill across the pillow.

One small hand rests against her cheek.

And above her bed, a constellation of silver butterflies drifts lazily through the air.

I lean down and kiss her forehead.