"But you promised!" Fiona wailed with her small foot stumping.
"Yes sweetheart I know, things change." Reaching forward Molly attempts to brush her daughter's hair, only to have her jerk away.
"Is not fair mommy! You said we could go on a picnic, I wanna go a picnic!"
"Fi I realize that, but the weather forecast said it's suppose to rain. Eating in the rain? Doesn't sound like much fun to me. Tell you what we can tomorrow, it's going to be sunny tomorrow."
"I don't care. You promised me. It's not fair! Daddy would have kept his promises and take me when he said!" Even at five she knew the words to use that would string the soul. With an annoyed sigh Molly stands from the kitchen table.
"Fine Fiona we'll go. Don't start crying when you catch your death!"