"What do you mean?" Melony asked Molly for what seemed like the hundredth time.
"You're not my mommy! You're Melony..." The girl kept insisting.
"Yes, sweetie. That's my name. But I'm also your mommy..." She sounded frustrated. "Now, I want you to stop this game and go to bed..now," she said, firmly.
She turned out the lights and closed the door, wondering what was up with the girl. She headed back to the master bedroom and sat on the edge of the bed. To an outside observer, a teenager sharing a bed with an adult would have seemed odd, but neither of them noticed.
"Peter," she said to Molly's father. "If she calls out again, you try...I don't know what has gotten into her. She says I'm her babysitter, and that Mary Tyne is her mommy."
He laughed. "That would be me robbing the cradle, wouldn't it? It's just a child's imagination."
"I just can't help feeling like I've done something wrong."
"You're a great mother, and she knows that," Peter insisted.
