It wasn't too many hours after I made the Runaway Kit discovery that Small Fry complained she didn't feel good.
She then proceeded to prove it by throwing up. Repeatedly.
I had tired of watching kid TV, and so I'd gone upstairs to watch TV in the living room. I hadn't been up there long when I heard Hubby herding Small Fry up to the top floor. "She threw up again," he said as they went by.
He put Small in the tub for a much-needed bath. I trailed up after them to check on Small, and stood in the hallway, peeking in past a two-inch crack in the pocket door to the bathroom.
After Small was squeaky clean, Hubby told her to get jammies and a nighttime Pull-Up on. Then he brought her back to our bedroom and had her lay on the bed with us.
What followed was a cute discussion about how much Hubby and I love her and how sad we would be if she left our family. And how running away isn't the answer. And how there's no home that's better than ours, because we'll always love her more. And how it hurts us that she wants to leave.
It took about ten minutes to sort out the feelings and to get from sad to smiley, and that's when this conversation happened.
Small Fry [mumbling around her thumb]: God made Dadda for me.
Small: God made Dadda for me.
Hubby: Gob may blahblah for you?
Me: God made Dadda for her.
Hubby: Oh. Yes.
Small: An' God made Mamma for me.
Small [giving a happy sigh]: God made Dadda for me. [Small stroked Hubby's goatee.]
Hubby: Yes, I think he did.
Small: No think! He DID make Dadda for me!