A shadow passing smoothly over light. The shadow comforting, a familiar shape. She holds the child in her lap. The child's bones go limp and the body turns into a slippery, pudding-like substance, and is sliding formless and uncontainable down through the space between her mother's legs, glopping stickily to the floor. Shaft of sunlight through the window turns to milk.
Milk pours in through the window like sunlight.
Milk teeming with giant bacteria like the jellied wings of butterflies. The little house is flooded in the warm white liquid. It churns, it spins racing whirlpools. The child delighted, splashing and swimming as she does in the bath. Waves of white close over the head of the child, her mouth alive in a paroxysm of pleasure, and she drowns.