This Water is Different

Evan doesn't like to waste anything.  Anything.  Tonight we stopped at the Varsity for a couple of hotdogs.  And water.  As we finished, Evan was reluctant about throwing his water away.  So he sat there and drank big gulps, then got up and drank more big gulps.  "Evan," I said.  "You don't have to drink it all.  It's just water."  That didn't work, so I had to get to the heart of the matter:  "Evan, if you drink all that water you might pee in your bed tonight."  "I'll pee before I go to bed," he said.  Finally, I coaxed him into ditching the cup, but after he did it, he started crying.  Then I tried to soothe him.  "It's okay," I said, "if you're thirsty when we get home, you can have more water.  We have more water at home.  We have lots of water."  "But this water is different," he said.  I tried to convince him that, no, the water is the same, and we have lots of it.  I can fill a bathtub with water if I want to, I told him.  "But this water is different," he said.  No, it's the same.  Just ask your Mom.