Mexico City, Presidential Residence, early morning.
Victor was currently sitting on the soft carpet in the living room without any care for his image, with a two-year-old little girl, as delicate as if carved from jade, trying her best to climb up his chest. Her little hands accurately grabbed the few stubbly whiskers on his chin.
"Ouch, my little Maria, take it easy, daddy's beard is almost being pulled out by you."
Victor winced in pain, drawing in a sharp breath, but his eyes were full of a doting smile, allowing his daughter Maria to "wreak havoc" on him.
The little girl let out a silvery laugh, seemingly finding her father's distorted expression the most amusing toy in the world.
Not far away, his two-year-old son Bruto was sitting on the floor, concentrating on arranging a set of wooden soldier toys. He was attempting to line up the soldiers in an attack formation, but clearly lacked coordination, leaving the lineup crooked.
