“You should have gone with mommy,” the seven year old said looking up at her father.
“I couldn’t, baby girl,” Clint said shaking his head.
“Yes, you could have,” she told him plainly her curls bobbing as she nodded.
“Someone had to stay with you,” he looked back at her, “and it was her job.”
“Never stopped you before,” she met his stare, her expression priceless.
“Your mother was right,” he said rubbing his brow, “you are too cute and way too smart for your own good.”
“I know,” she smiled and went back to what she was doing.