it's mother's day, And you're laying quietly in bed, just waking up. Your husband is downstairs, making breakfast. But your daughter creaks open your bedroom door. Her blonde hair is a little messy, her pj's wrinkled. "Mommy! Mommy! Come downstairs!" She gently drags you downstairs, and makes you close your eyes. She's holding a vase of flowers in her little hands, along with the help of your husband. He's smiling. (His name is Wisteria, her name is Evelyn)