That evening, when Dad was getting ready to leave, he stopped by the door and said quietly,
“By the way, this game isn’t new.”
“What do you mean?”
He smiled.
“You were afraid of having your hair washed too. When you were five, I played the same game with you.”
I froze.
Then suddenly, I remembered.
Closed eyes.
The sound of water.
My father’s voice:
“Guess what it is.”
I had simply forgotten.
That moment taught me something.
Sometimes fear can make even a beautiful memory look suspicious.
But I also understood something else.
I didn’t regret opening that door.
Because when it comes to a child’s safety, it is better to check one extra time than one time too few.
And the following Sunday, I sat outside the bathroom and listened as Emily shouted through laughter,
“It was the duck, Grandpa! I guessed it again!”
And this time, I smiled too.
