The rest of that day I spent it in the room of my dear Mila, the princess room I so wanted to steal for myself. I was playing on my computer and giving myself a few minutes of relaxation, killing some nobs in the game. I was not pouting, definitely.
"Mommy, are you still mad at daddy?"
"Why are you asking me that, darling? Did he ask you to ask me?"
"No," this little squirrel shook her head and looked down at her feet. "He is worried… and I felt that you should go to him. It is not good for my little sister for you to be that angry."
"How much?"
"I don't understand, mommy," she pouted again and jumped into my arms.
"How much did he give you to make you say those words?"
"How can you think of me like that, mommy?"
This little girl is still trying to toy with my mind and rationality. She was even presenting her head for me to pat and even let my dexterous hands mess with her soft hair. The dream of every mother, to style the hair of her daughter like a doll.
