You asked me why you couldn't play with the water gun today. Your eyes looking up at me. You barely able to reach the faucet to fill it up. Eyebrows scrunched, hands frozen under the water waiting for a response. It doesn't even look like a gun. Not really. It's electric blue and fluorescent green. Shiny plastic. Anyone would see it and know it wasn't a real gun. But I couldn't imagine you spraying the liquid innocently toward the fence without seeing faces as small as yours covered in blood. But you wouldn't understand. I tried to explain to you that it just isn't a good idea. Today. Or any day. So you abandoned the water weapon. Now it's spewn across the sink getting everything wet.
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