Bedtime.


She looks at me, petulant.
Blue eyes wide and challenging.
She won't back down.
Nor will I.

It's become a daily ritual,
this stand off between us.
Headstrong and bold,
she holds her ground,
even as the tears wet her cheeks.

She clutches Daisy, almost nonchalant,
yet her fingers, white tipped with pressure,
reveal the truth.
Daisy, her comfort, her treasure.
Her weakness.

Dare I use this knowledge to gain the higher ground?
I dare.

As my hands lift Daisy from hers, she sees.
She knows I know.
And she folds.
She pleads.
She screams.
She stamps and throws.
She collapses in a heap,
hair mussed and eyes tired.
I win.