At this moment, George Flack wasn't in the mood to chat with the dean for long, so after a few courteous exchanges, he sent the dean away.
After closing the door, George saw his son Dylan sitting there looking at him eagerly.
"Why are you staring at me? Close your eyes and rest more, or else you won't grow taller in the future," George said, trying to keep his son's sensitive heart from sensing anything amiss.
But Dylan wasn't buying it: "Dad, you're not short, so I won't be short either."
After speaking, Dylan coughed. His throat was still uncomfortable after having his stomach pumped, and even adults could hardly bear the gastric lavage, let alone a child.
George hurriedly fetched a glass of water and fed Dylan in small sips. "Don't talk for now. You can talk when you're all better."
Dylan was held down by his father and was forced to type slowly on George's phone, which was almost as large as two of Dylan's palms. He had a hard time holding the phone.
