Who is apparently made of iron will. His first steps were not to me, but towards the objects of his desire: the stereo, and then towards his dad who had popped out for a second: step, step--lunge toward daddy, and land on the edge of the couch. And then again seconds later, moving away from me, step, step and lunging towards Daddy.
Meanwhile, I was getting the stinkeye all day long. Brow furrowed, nose crinkled. Sheer annoyance on his face. And I wasn't even saying no to him. I just wasn't Daddy. He was fixated on him all day long. Sure, I'm good enough to nurse him, but the rest of the day was D.A.D.
I guess it makes a change.
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