Amy Foster chuckled as she looked at the little girl sprawled on the ground, knowing it was no use for her to play with Spencer Sullivan.
She walked over and bent down to comfort her. "Little darling, don't cry. There are many more balloons over there. Auntie will help you get one."
Amy pointed at the array of colorful balloons across the street, right at the entrance of Griffindustries Gardens.
"I don't want." To her surprise, the little girl stubbornly refused and turned her head.
She didn't cry anymore and got up on her own.
She appeared to be just under two years old, her white knee-length stockings making her little legs look like freshly dug-out lotus roots, section by section.
Her black shoes with straps also pressed the flesh on her feet, making it bulge out.
