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Suddenly, we heard the powerful screams coming from our bedroom.
“Sissy up!” Daisy climbed off the couch, leaving a trail of Goldfish in her wake.
“You go get the baby, and I’ll get the vacuum.” I sighed.
“May the cheddar be ever in your favor.” Willa grinned, running after Daisy.
* * *
One Year Later
Willa
Damien and I sat in the pristine office of Whitmore Academy on the Upper East Side—a private nursery school that was very hard to get into.
“Mr. and Mrs. Blackwood, Dr. Whitmore said, peering over her glasses. “Let’s begin.”
“Of course. We’re very excited.” I smiled, shifting in my seat.
“Very excited,” Damien said.
The truth was we were nervous as hell, and totally being judged.
“Tell me. What words would you two use to describe Daisy?” Dr. Whitmore asked.
“Confident.” I smiled.
“Definitely independent,” Damien spoke.
“She’s emotionally expressive,” I said.
“And she’s very resourceful,” Damien said.
“Authoritarian,” I mumbled.
“Pardon?” Dr. Whitmore’s brow raised.
“She’s a future CEO.” I smiled.
“And how does Daisy interact with peers?” Dr. Whitmore asked.
Damien and I glanced at each other, scrambling to find the right words that wouldn’t get her rejected from this school.
“She….leads,” Damien shifted in his chair.
“She loves to organize group activities.” I nervously smiled.
“Yesterday she told her baby sister she was being inefficient,” Damien said, and I discreetly kicked him.
“She’s an honest child.” I looked at Dr. Whitmore.
“And how does she respond to a structured environment?” Dr. Whitmore asked.
I involuntarily coughed to mask the laughter that wanted to escape me. “By attempting to restructure to suit her needs.” Shit. I shouldn’t have said that.
“Whitmore Academy believes in cultivating emotional intelligence and a collaborative spirit. We encourage the children to share their ideas and thoughts and be proactive in a group setting.” She smiled in a terrifying way.
“That’s great.” Damien grinned. “Daisy believes in ruling with fairness.”