The other night I'd reached a limit with dad's affectionate pats, and let him know it. Now, this is something mom's been trying to work on with me (of course, unbeknownst to her it'll never work) for a while, but what she doesn't realize is that I don't know any better.
She can yell and scold me all she wants, but what I hear is this, " !". I'm not like a human kid, although I know that's what some human kids hear when their parents yell at them. In my mind, dad got too rough, I rightfully let him know I was unhappy (don't worry, it only took a trickle of hydrogen peroxide and one bandage), end of story.
They disagreed, I silently stuck to my limit with dad, mom scolded, then we all got ready for bed.
Anyway, here's how my relationship with dad really works (when I say so).
I love them both and they love me, and we're all three still figuring out how to get along. Of course it's not like it's difficult or anything.
Not being one to let an opportunity pass I'll end this post as such: dad, for all the times you "comment" on my swinging, sagging pouch, I'm seeing in that first photo some pretty saggy, graying facial features...