~~

THIRD PERSON POV

A one-year-old baby quietly laid in her crib, ignoring her father as she did so. The tired man was propped up against his daughter's crib, exhaustion marred in his features. Why, oh, why are babies so hard to handle?

Being an only child, he did not know taking care of children, and he never babysat when he was younger either. His family was far too important and rich to even think about making him work like that.

Now, he had just started to doze off, pretty sure that his little girl was already asleep when suddenly, a horrid smell reached his nose. He was immediately awakened by the foul odor, looking around to look where it was. Upon turning around, the smell was even more powerful, causing him to jump to his feet.

Turns out, his beautiful baby had taken a dump, making him groan and curse under his breath. He hated these moments, but what else could he do?

After quickly preparing all the things needed in the washroom for her, he carefully lifted the baby that was nonchalantly staring at him and placed her on the counter of the sink.

With a quick tilt of his head heavenwards, he looked back down with a face of determination. With as much carefulness as he could do, he took out the dirty diaper and looked around for a trash can. Seeing nothing nearby, he frowned, wondering where it was.

He shrugged and placed it on the floor for the time being. He then took some baby wipes and carefully carried on cleaning his child's mess. After that, he put on a new, clean diaper, and smiled, proud at himself. He looked around for the trashcan and saw it at the far corner of the bathroom.

He smiled and walked towards it, but as soon as he took his first step, his smile dropped faster than a bullet. A 'squelch' was heard in the room, followed by immediate silence as he slowly looked down to his bare feet.

One of them had stepped at the disgusting diaper and was now swimming in shit.

~~

"Dai, piccola mia. Dì, 'Papà'." The father said to a three-year-old girl, coaxing her to say her first word. {Come on, my little girl. Say, 'Dad'.}

However, his daughter ignored him and looked back down at the expensive toy in her hand. It was the robot dog that was controlled by a remote that was very popular among the generation of children, which was why he immediately bought the most expensive one from the company.

He huffed as he saw the toddler continue to ignore him, whatever he tried to do. "Chi avrebbe mai pensato che prendersi cura dei bambini sarebbe stato così difficili." He mumbled under his breath as he looked away. {Who would have thought that taking care of children would be so difficult.}

Suddenly, he heard a crack. He turned his attention that had drifted away from his daughter back to her, and saw that she had broken the dog.

To be more specific, she tore its head off of its body.

He raised a brow. Wow, his daughter sure was strong. Just like her old man.

Then, surprising him, he saw the child that had been ignoring him turn to him with a blank look on her face, staring at his eyes.

"Padre." She held out the two pieces that each lay in a small hand, "Fix."

He blinked once, twice, and then launched into a full-on smile.

"She said her first words!"

~~

The father and daughter duo stood in front of a luxurious private school. His little girl was now at the age when she would start her first day of kindergarten, and if he was being honest, he didn't want to let her go.

Finally, after giving himself a pep talk on his head, he kneeled before her, and then started fussing over her clean, dry-pressed uniform. "Sii bravo a scuola, va bene?" {Be good at school, alright?}

"Sì, Padre." She answered curtly. {Yes, Father.}

However, the overprotective father was not ready to let her go yet. "Se qualcuno ti dà problemi, dimmelo, okay?" {If someone gives you trouble, tell me, okay?}

He was ready to bring hell if anyone even thought of doing the slightest bit of offense to his precious daughter whom he held dear over anything.

This time, instead of her usually calm face, the little girl rolled her eyes. "Posso prendermi cura di loro, Padre." She stated with annoyance. {I can take care of them, Father.}

Patting her shoulders with pride and love, he murmured, "So che puoi, amore mio. So che poui." {I know you can, my love. I know you can.}

Letting her go rather reluctantly, he watched as his firstborn —and only, as of his knowledge— child enter the doors with other students. This father couldn't help but feel as if his daughter was so grown up, even though she was barely six years old.

~~

"Padre, dov'è mia madre?" An innocent question that seemed innocent, but was plaguing the young girl's mind. {Father, where is my mother?}

"Lo saprai quando sarai più grande." The father replied, uncomfortable to expose the horrid truth to his daughter so soon. {You'll know this when you're older.}

She can learn later, but grow up for now.

~~

A few days had passed since the beginning of December, and now, the wonderful father had no idea what to get for his daughter this Christmas. Since she never asked for anything nor had hinted at something, he had no idea what to get the girl of ten years old.

Finally out of ideas on how to please her, he decided to ask her head-on. "Allora, cosa vuoi per Natale?" {So, what do you want for Christmas?}

She didn't even give a second thought before answering, "Una pistola. La mia pistola." {A gun. My own gun.}

The father was definitely not expecting this answer and froze. But after s a split second, he regained his composure and said, "Beh, perchè no? Tutto quello che vuoi, mia regina." {Well, why not? Anything you want, my queen.}

That Christmas, she had received her first gun that she was proud to call 'hers'.

~~

You are my pride. My joy. You were the reason I pulled myself together after my beloved ran away.

You were unique from the very start. Cold and uncaring for a child, but even if you didn't notice it, I saw how much you cared.

By the way that you would turn to me if you needed something that you weren't able to do. By the way that you glared at me whenever you come to my office past midnight because I was overworking. By the way that you strived hard to be at my level.

The phrase 'actions speak louder than words' have never been so true with you.

You disliked wording out affection. Almost as much as you disliked putting it into action. But have you not noticed how you used to help me, assist me, or just be by my side for no possible reason?

Now, staring at you hanging there from the ceiling, I knew somehow that wouldn't last long. I could read your eyes for the first time in a long time. You are sorry. You are regretful. You are dejected.

But most of all, I could see that you wanted me to know how much you love me, even though you never worded it out.

So don't worry, piccola mia. I know you love me. And I love you too. {my little girl}

~~

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