My daughter somewhat resembles a troll doll, nest-ce pas?
John got home from his overnight shift, ate some eggs, then fell asleep on the couch, a dram of scotch balanced precariously on his lap. As Ari’s squawks from upstairs increased in frequency, I urged him to get up so he could join me in what’s become our favorite time of day–it’s also the least painful way of moving him from couch to bed.
Every morning, when she sees us in response to her high-pitched barks, her pissed-off pout melts away into the most heartwarmingly ecstatic grin you could ever imagine. She starts cooing excitedly and kicking her legs wildly as if she’s saying, “OH! It’s YOU!!! I know you! You’ve come to rescue me!!!” And then she nestles so effortlessly against our chests. It’s. The. Best.