RIVER.

We sat for lunch; Taylor had successfully made spaghetti and meatballs/bolognese.

“This looks delicious,” Talia squealed as she took up her fork, swirling through the pasta. Once it touched her tongue, she let out another delighted squeal, munching on it happily.

“One would think I don’t feed you well enough,” Ashley scoffed at her daughter’s reaction.

“Do you?” Talia threw back. Both threw accusatory glares at each other before it was cut off by Talia returning to ...