“i can get them,” you offered from around the kitchen table, droplets of milk dripping back into the white ceramic bowl as the spoon paused momentarily. “i can get the groceries.”

your father looked up at you with surprised eyes. this was the third time in the past two month that you’d offered to get the groceries. but a part of him wasn’t complaining.

“sweetheart, are you sure? your brother and i would be perfectly fine with either of us fetching it this time.” oh how you admired your fathers kindness.

“it’s quite alright,” you grinned, “shopping alone is pretty fun.” and even more fun to stare down at the people that threw your father out of the store and publicly assaulted him with cans of food.