In which The (then) Five-Year-Old absolutely is not crying

One afternoon, Daddyo and The (then) Five-Year-Old were talking about emotions. Somehow, Daddyo found himself caught up into a not-exactly age-appropriate conversation about extreme depression.

Daddyo, backpedaling hastily: “One day you might be really sad like that too, but who can you always talk to, no matter what?”

The (then) Five-Year-Old: “You and Mommyo.”

The (then) Five-Year-Old begins to cry.

Daddyo, distressed: “You don’t have to cry.”

The (then) Five-Year-Old: “I’m not. You are filling up my eyes with tears of happiness and one of them is streaming down my cheek even now.”

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About Shala Howell

Writer of things ranging from optical network switching white papers to genetic testing patient education materials to historical fiction set in an 1880s asylum. When I’m not scratching my head over pesky characters who refuse to do things how I want them done or dreaming of my next book (which will of course be much easier to write than the current one), my writerly self can be found blogging about life with a very curious Ten-Year-Old at, or musing about books and the writing life at
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