Roger pushed aside the dingy rag that was his door
“You’re home! Did the baker remember anything?”
He sighed and said “Yeah, he was really nice about it. It took him a few tries but he eventually got it. Even had some juices so he’ll have four colors.” The Husband paused and glanced up at his wife. He was on the verge of tears “Baker said he’ll make more once this batch has dried out.” Roger collapsed onto a chair.
Melissa rushed across to comfort him. “I know. If we could, we’d buy him more time. but there just isn’t enough.”
“Possibly his last birthday and we’re getting him Play-Doh? We never should of had a kid if we couldn’t give them a future.”
“Hey! Five years ago, things were different. I remember this quote. By Plato or Picasso or somebody. It goes: ‘All children are artists. The problem is how to remain an artist once he grows up.’ It describes our situation nicely.”
Roger could only stare at Melissa “You have a dark sense of humor.”
“Humor is the only thing that’s carried us through these years.”