You had a sleepover with Grandma the other day. When we came to get you, you politely gave me a courtesy smile, and ran passed me to your dad. Not through me, or under me, like you sprinted way passed me.
You also dislike pictures with me. I have hundreds of you and your cute dad. Me? Want to see the ones I have of us?


It may look I am lovingly holding you. In reality, I am certainly holding you, holding you from running away. One of these days you will resist fighting, and you will look up for a picture.