Broken Boulder écris une chanson contente

The girl's clumsy words spark an unfamiliar warmth in his chest, but it isn't unwelcome. He doesn't have a lot of experience with kids overall— but he can't deny the feeling best described as paternal uncoiling within him. It's odd; to say his own father was horrible is an understatement, and he's always thought parenthood isn't for him.
Lately he's changing his mind, it seems. Too bad she's not his kid. Nope, it's not, He can't help but grin. No one ever listens to his rambling about plants, and she seems interested enough. Lavender helps when you have a cough or a fever— and when you're uhhh, really upset. It's almost too pretty to eat, isn't it?
He decides to sit down, beckoning her closer; even if she's not likely to understand or remember, maybe he can impart some knowledge and feel better about himself. Or, who knows, maybe she's a child genius. What's your name? He asks after a moment, hoping the answer is coherent. Otherwise he'll just have to— figure out something to call her until he can ask Delight.