falling water

Dylan,

"Momma". "Momma". "Momma!", you called from the shower, unable to hear her at the dinner table as your repeated entreaties drowned out her attempts to respond between bites.

I stuck my head into the hallway.

"Whenever I'm thirsty in the shower, I just drink some of this falling water", you told me and I nodded my head.

"You can go", you said in a lilting, friendly voice, motioning me back through the doorway with your hand.


Dad

ps: Still in the shower, you're now singing a made-up-on-the-fly song about "I like to play unicorns, in my school."