The thing about daughters is that they stretch you. You watch vampire flicks (True Blood? What the hell is True Blood?), and you run down to catch the latest Sundance offering, and then, at the end of the day, you cook.
And you have no problem opening a bottle of rosé that you carted over from France because it’s worth it, they love it, you love it with them, you love them with you, you love everything about the day, despite the rain and the absence of photographic opportunities.
Ah daughters... they nudge you out of your own complacency and make you take note.