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Babs nods with complete confidence. “They were giant.”

Bane accepts defeat with a sigh. “I’ve spent the last hour learning ballet buns, and every tutorial begins by telling me to ask the child to sit still.”

Babs flashes a mischievous grin before racing around the couch, with Sprout launching after her so quickly that his tennis ball rolls forgotten across the floor.

Bane watches them disappear before rubbing a hand across his forehead. “The tutorial lost me there.”

I laugh as I set the new supplies on the table. “They clearly never met Babs.”

Bane heads toward the pantry, and Biddy immediately slips beside me to take my hand. “I’ll stay still.”

“I know you will.”

She beams at the praise, and by the time Bane returns with fruit snacks, Babs has already reappeared and climbed onto a chair as though she’d been waiting there all along.

“I’ll inspect,” she declares around a mouthful of fruit snacks.

“I appreciate the quality control,” Bane says as he arranges the brushes and replacement hair donuts across the table.

Biddy climbs into the chair he pulls out for her without being asked.

Babs watches from the opposite side of the table, chewing thoughtfully before pointing at her sister. “You practice on Biddy. I don’t want to be first.”

I unpack the rest of the supplies beside Bane, lining up ribbons where he can reach them.

Bane studies the paused tutorial one last time before locking his tablet and setting it aside. Then he gathers Biddy’s curls into one hand and reaches for the brush with the same focus he brings to every problem.

“You’ve got this, Daddy,” Biddy says as she sits perfectly still.

“I appreciate the vote of confidence.”

He works carefully through another section of curls until the brush catches, forcing him to ease the knot apart before trying again.

Across the table, Babs watches him over another fruit snack before climbing onto her knees for a better look. “I think you missed one.”

“I’ve still got a few steps left.”

She leans closer, studying the back of her sister’s head as though she’s judging a competition. “You’ll fix it.”

“I plan to.”

Mara slides another ribbon into the dance bag without lifting her head. “Your father likes instructions until hair gets involved.”

“I know.”

I hide my smile by concentrating on the new package of hair donuts and sliding one toward him. “The website definitely lied.”

“It absolutely did.”

He swaps the oversized one for the new one before gathering Biddy’s ponytail again. This time the bun forms properly, although a few determined curls immediately spring free around the edges.

Bane sighs. “The curls are unionized.”

Biddy giggles. “They’re happy.”

He smooths another strand into place, pins the bun, then crouches so she can study herself in the hallway mirror. “What do you think?”

Her face lights up. “I look like a ballerina.”