Disclaimer: Joyce & Buffy aren't mine, but belong to Joss Whedon.
Note: spoilers for the original series.
“No, no, no! Me no want to take bath!” the little blonde girl cried as she ran half-naked around the apartment, chased in vain by her mother.
Abruptly, the latter had a sudden idea and stopped chasing her daughter. “Now honey,” she said instead, as she produced a small plush pig from a high shelf, way beyond the reach of a toddler. “You don’t want Mr. Gordo to be cleaner than you are, now do you? After all, he’s the pig and not you.”
“Mr. Gordo?” the little girl also stopped “Is he my new friend?”
“Yes, I suppose he is,” the mother belatedly confessed, remembering that this was supposed to be her daughter’s birthday gift next week instead. “Do you want to be as clean as he is?”
“Yes! Yes I do!” the girl grinned brightly as she reached out for her new toy and for her mother’s warm embrace, and the scene vanished in a flare of sunlight.
...When Buffy came back into the Summers’ household to check out on her mother, Joyce was already dead, but on her face, though nobody cared to notice or to realize this, was a small, warm smile.