This is by far the shortest, fluffiest, most random thing I have ever written, but I didn't want to hold out on you guys, especially when my updates have been a bit sparse.

"You have to take risks. We will only understand the miracle of life fully when we allow the unexpected to happen." -Paulo Coelho

You never thought you would find such happiness. Not this kind, anyway. Not the sort of happiness that comes from the warmth you feel every time you see him with her. Her – half you, half him. The perfect mixture of light and dark. Bronze skin, green eyes, and cinnamon hair.

In your work it's all about the biology, the DNA. But is it really fair to reduce the smile you share with her to science? Is there a gene to explain the love of water she got from her father?

You smile as she flees from the waves, yelling at the ocean as if it were its own entity. You watch her then chase the waves as they retreat, filled with a sudden courage that you know got Eric into quite a bit of trouble as a child. He is next to you, keeping an eye on the ocean and your daughter, and when she splashes a bit too deep into an oncoming wave he is rushing after her.

Laughter fills your ears, the crashing waves a backdrop, as he flips her upside down and hugs her legs to his chest. You'd never admit it to him, but your stomach drops every time he does that. Then you remember that he is more delicate with her than he is with you, if that's even possible, and you realize he knows his own strength. He is so kind and gentle that sometimes you forget just how strong he is.

"Mama, you're upside down!" she shrieks, feeling so perfectly safe in her father's arms that she doesn't even hang on. You tilt your head until she is merely sideways and look at her with wide, playful eyes, and she is so amused by this that she cannot stop giggling.

You reach down to tickle her belly and she writhes around in Eric's arms, then reaching out for you. At first you oblige, sliding your hands under her arms to lift her from his grasp, but he gives you that look he so often does lately. Bearing the weight of a squirming, thrashing four-year-old is not something he is going to let your pregnant body do.

Eric carefully eases her upright and sits her on his hip, where she looks so small that you almost forget how grown-up she seemed this morning when she read her book to you. She frowns, so you wrap an arm around her, her weight in Eric's arms, and you kiss her temple.

"How about we walk on home, put Finding Nemo on, and lie on the couch together?" you ask her, receiving a generous nod and a broad smile in response. Eric's free arm curves loosely around your waist, his hand on your hip.

No, you never expected any of this. But you certainly wouldn't change a thing.