Her Regret

"Wait! Izzy! No, stop!"

Too late. The three-year-old went one step too far and tumbled off the wooden platform and into the ankle-deep muddy water six inches below. Unhurt, but unsure what to make of her now mud-soaked dress and the dirty water dripping down her angelic little forehead she stood back up and turned to look back at her mother. In one hand she clutched the baggie of bread crumbs and in the other her sippy cup, which had managed to splatter a few purple drops on her perfect little cheeks for good measure. The ducks she had been attempting to feed had scattered, but not too far knowing there was still food to be had. She had even managed to acquire a feather, plastered to her wet hair, that fit so perfectly behind her little ear it almost looked like it was meant to be there.

Gazing fondly down at her child, who by her look, couldn't decide whether she should be laughing or crying, the mother quickly grabbed her phone and aimed it....only to discover it was blank.

"Oh, no! Why didn't I plug this in last night?!"