Sunlight spilled into the living room like a gift, golden and soft and warm on Kayla's bare feet as she padded across the hardwood floor. Their daughter squealed with laughter from the kitchen, and Kayla paused in the doorway to take it in, just for a moment.
Oliver was crouched dramatically beside the fridge, pretending to search for a missing spoon, while their daughter stood in the middle of the room, clutching it behind her back and giggling like she'd pulled off the heist of the century.
"I don't understand," he was saying in a tone of deep confusion. "I swear it was just here. The spoon... it was in the drawer, and now, POOF! Gone. Stolen, maybe. A spoon thief. A mysterious, spoon-sized bandit."
Kayla grinned and leaned against the doorframe.
"I think you've been outwitted, Professor," she said, folding her arms.
Oliver turned, mock horror on his face. "Not you, too!"
