Smylies Forever

I guess it doesn't really matter that I wake up to my eyelids burning themselves into my eyeballs every morning. That I woke up at 1am, then 2, then 4, then 5am for the day. I suppose it's the least I can do for she who I chose to bring into this world. Babies certainly teach me patience and love, nudging me just enough to surpass the maniacal tendencies that only come from a profound lack of rest.

But do her eyes look tired? No, no, they do not. That girl is ready to hop on my lap and dig her fat little toes into the tender skin of my thigh while she talks to the wall, couch and cartoon.

This is the good stuff. This is it.