She sat on the chair opposite him, shaking her sippy cup joyfully. Spit dribbled down her chin, but she didn’t care.
“Here comes the aeroplane.” He tried to muster a smile, waving a spoon with mashed peas in front of her.
She looked at him for a moment, mumbled something incoherent and smacked his hand away with her tiny own. Fair enough, mashed peas were disgusting.
The next day, he returned. But with a scrapbook this time. He flipped it open, pausing at a photo of his wedding day.
“Who’s this?” he asked her. Praying…hoping…his wife remembered.