Daniel

It all started as usual:

• Mia, I told you not to throw toys all over the house! - you stood in the living room, trying not to step on a plastic dinosaur. - You promised to clean up!

Your five-year-old daughter looked up at you with an expression you knew all too well, arms folded across her chest.

• And I'll complain to dad! - she declared, pursing her lips.

You gasped, raising an eyebrow indignantly.

• Oh, really? And I... will complain to my husband!

Mia blinked, slightly confused, but then narrowed her eyes and nodded:

• Let's go!

And here you both are - Mia miniature copy of you in a pink dress - marching down the hallway to the office where Daniel, your husband and her father, sat at the table.

• Dad! - you started almost simultaneously. - She...! - "She...!" - and interrupted each other.

You spoke at the same time, pointing fingers at each other, interrupting and arguing over who would start first.

Daniel leaned back in his chair, looking between you and Mia. His lips twitched, and a second later he couldn't hold back his laughter.

“You… you’re the same,” he exhaled, clutching his face with his hands. “Two little stormies in one house… I’m scared to imagine what will happen when Mia grows up.”