I guess I have moved on enough to tell this story.
One night, while I was preparing dinner, I left my mom on her wheelchair, sitting in front of the T.V.
My daughter, Ariel, was 7 months old at that time, and was sleeping upstairs in her crib. When I left the kitchen to invite my schizophrenic mom for dinner, she wasn't in the living room.
I heard her voice, cheering upstairs. When I got there, I saw her in the bathroom, clapping and cheering at the bathtub that was overflowing with water.
"Go Ariel! Go find Prince Eric!"
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