"I don't love you," she tells me. She's irritated because it's time to get out of the shower and get ready for bed.
"But I love you," I reply.
"I don't love you. I love my daddy."
He makes faces from the other side of the bathroom door. Faces like he won something. Faces like he's gloating. I myself am trying not to laugh. I leave the bathroom telling him that he's on his own for the bedtime ritual. I start laughing and it takes awhile to catch my breath.
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