“I’m queen of the world, Daddy!”

“To me you’ll always be my little princess,” Mr. Olsen replied. Like the typical dad on a Sunday morning, he wore his robe, and his eyes were glued to his open newspaper while his left hand stirred his mug of coffee.

“Daddy, I’m really queen of the world. Look!”

Mr. Olsen looked up. It wasn’t unusual for little Cari Olsen to be playing dress-up, wearing tutus and feather boas, but this time, something was off. In the middle of the living room was a humongous papier-mâché globe, and on top of it was Cari, wearing a crystal tiara in her auburn hair.

“Cari, pumpkin, where’d you get all that?”

“It appeared in our living room when I said I was queen of the world,” Cari said, smiling sweetly. Little Cari was one of those kids with had a smile that could melt your heart. Her freckles were plastered on her nose, and the corners of her lips looked like they were going to touch her ears.

“That’s not possible, Cari. I was in there just a few minutes ago.” Mr. Olsen felt terrible once he saw his daughter’s face fall.

“But it’s true,” Cari replied. Her lip quivered for a second, but then her face lit up again. “I can show you. I’ll make up some rules for my world, and then you’ll see that I wasn’t lying.”

“Sure, darling.”

“My first rule is that we eat Mom’s apple pie for breakfast. With hot cocoa.”

Mr. Olsen felt compelled to at least give her something, so he grabbed the last slice of pie for Cari. As she ate, she smiled and said, “While you make that hot cocoa, I’ll tell you my second rule. Every weekend, I get to play with my pony in the backyard. Her name’s Buttercup.”

“Where would you get a pony?”

“Buttercup is waiting for me in the backyard.”

To Mr. Olsen’s surprise, a spotted Shetland pony galloped around the pool. “Cari, where’d that come from?”

“Daddy, you have to watch it appear. That’s the point,” Cari said, leading her dad to the backyard. “Is there anything you want while I’m queen?”

“How about a unicorn for you, princess?”

“Queen,” Cari corrected, “and unicorns don’t exist, silly.”

“Then how about a Ferrari 458 Italia? You know I’ve always wanted a red one.”

Cari Olsen led her father to the driveway and said, “My third rule is that Daddy drives a red Ferrari, then.”

Mr. Olsen’s jaw dropped when he saw his dream car appear. All because of his silly eight-year-old daughter. “Did that just happen?”

Cari nodded, and Mr. Olsen locked her in a bear hug. “I love you, Cari.”

“I love you too, Daddy.”

“I believe you now.”

“I know.”

“Do you want anything else? You’re queen of the world now.”

“Daddy, I have one more rule.”

“What’s that, honey?”

“No boys. Sorry. I can’t risk catching cooties.”