Imagine Ryan teaching your four year old daughter how to play guitar. *that's the only picture I had of the era that I wanted*
"Like this, Daddy?" Y/d/n asked, strumming the guitar gently.
"Yep, you got it, kiddo. Now," he pulled her onto his lap, taking her small hands in his own. "Put this finger here, and that one there. There you go," he cheered.
You stood in the doorway of the bedroom, leaning against the door frame, a big smile on your face.
Ryan looked up at you, smiling, and you moved over to sit on the bed next to him. "Hey, babe." He leaned over, kissing you quickly before turning back to your daughter.
"Mommy!" Y/d/n squealed, reaching for you. She grabbed your hand, mumbling something about the oversized guitar in her lap.
You giggled at her cuteness, watching her strum the guitar as you pushed some hair behind her ear.
She finished her "song", looking to you and Ryan for approval. You both clapped, smiling brightly, and she smiled too.
"Good job, sweetheart!" You cheered.
"I want to be in a band like Daddy!" She said, leaning her head back against Ryan's chest.
"With the rate you're going, you'll be in a band before you hit fifth grade," Ryan chuckled.
"Our baby will be famous," you laughed, pushing some hair from your face.
You loved them both so much, and you felt so lucky to have them. You smiled, knowing your daughter would turn out amazing.
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I attempted with cuteness. I always worry about what words to put, or how to word things, but sometimes the words just flow. Like with this one.