??? ???, ??????????? ??????? & ???????

IN WHICH... THEIR DAUGHTER WANTS TO PLAY BARBIES.

I WAS MID-SWEEP, TRYNA GET THIS DAMN HOUSE IN ORDER WHEN LIL' TODDLER CAME RUNNIN' INTO THE KITCHEN, HER TINY FEET TAPPIN' AGAINST THE HARDWOOD.

"Mommy, can we play Barbies?" she asked, lookin' up at me with them big brown eyes that always got me weak.

I glanced over at Elijah, who was wipin' down the counters. We was tryna get shit done, y'know, make the crib look decent before the day ran away from us.

"Sorry, baby, but me and Mommy cleanin' right now," Elijah said, tossin' the rag in the sink. "How 'bout we play after we finish?"

Her lil' face scrunched up. "But I wanna play now..."

I smirked, nudgin' him with my hip. "Nah, we can play now."

Elijah side-eyed me. "For real?"

I shrugged, already scoopin' my baby girl up. "Hell yeah. House gon' still be here, but she only gon' be this little once."

She let out the happiest lil' squeal, wrappin' her arms around my neck. "Yay! Daddy, come play too!"

Elijah sighed, tryna act all fake annoyed, but I saw that smile creepin' up. "Aight, aight, lemme go find Ken. He prolly in a shoe somewhere."

I laughed, already headin' to the livin' room with my baby. Shit, cleanin' could wait—Barbie time was serious business.

Elijah disappeared down the hall, mumblin' somethin' 'bout how Ken always go missin' like he on the run. Meanwhile, I plopped down on the rug with my baby girl as she dumped out her whole damn Barbie bin like she was on a mission. Dolls, tiny shoes, dresses—shit was flyin' everywhere.

"Aight, ma," I said, pickin' up one of the dolls. "Who we playin' today? Barbie goin' to the club or she workin' a nine-to-five?"

She gasped, lookin' at me like I just offended her whole existence. "Mommy, Barbie don't work! She a princess!"

I snorted. "Oh, word? So she just out here livin' off vibes?"

"Yup!" she giggled, snatchin' the doll out my hand. "She rich-rich."

Elijah came back, holdin' a Ken doll with his plastic-ass hair all messed up. "Aight, I found this fool under the couch. Lookin' like he been through it."

"That's 'cause Ken ain't built for real life," I said, side-eyin' the doll's stiff-ass smile. "He ain't got no job, no real hairline, just vibes."

My daughter gasped again. "Nooo, Daddy! Ken is a superhero!"

Elijah nodded, playin' along. "Ohhh, my bad, my bad. What's his superpower?"

She thought for a second before throwin' her hands in the air. "He can fly! And he saves Barbie from the monsters!"

I crossed my arms. "Aight, bet. But let's be real—Barbie don't need savin'. She could body a monster herself."

Elijah chuckled. "Damn right. My baby gotta know she don't need no man to save her."

Our daughter giggled, already makin' Barbie and Ken zoom through the air like they was in a whole action movie.

And just like that, time slowed down. The dishes in the sink? The laundry waitin' to be folded? That shit didn't matter.

Right now, it was Barbie time. And that was serious business.