“You can do it,” her father said, standing chest deep; but he still took a conciliatory baby step closer.
“One...two…” she leaned forward precariously, pink toes on the edge. Dad had his arms out.
“You moved,” she accused, straightening, hands on hips.
“You can do it. Jump.”
“One...two...FIVE!” She straightened again, knowing exactly which button she had pushed.
“Three, not five,” Dad said. “You know better. Now jump.”
“One...two…” she jumped. Dad did not catch her. Another valuable lesson learned.