Sophia: Can I eat this?
Me: Sorry, honey, but it's time for bed right now. I'll share it with you tomorrow. Ok?
Sophia: Ok, I'm going to bed now, but don't eat it because I want to share it with you.
Me: Ok.
Sophia: Don't eat it.
Me: Ok, I won't eat it all.
Sophia: Don't eat it all. I want to have some tomorrow, ok?
Me: Ok, honey. Good night...
Sophia: Don't eat it.
Me: I'll save you a bite. I love you. Good night...
(Somehow I get the impression she doesn't trust me alone with chocolate.)
Her first words the next morning:
Sophia: Did you eat all the chocolate?
Me: I saved you a bite, honey. Just for you.
The smile she gave me when she heard that I kept my chocolate promise made me feel like the greatest dad because, to be painfully honest, not eating that last piece of chocolate may have been the hardest decision I've made so far in our father-daughter relationship...
