As I was giving Junior breakfast and bellowing, "C is for Cookie," Junior gave me the look. The oh-my-God-you-are-an-embarrassment-to-me-and-my-fellow-little-people look.
I can't be lame already. Sputter. Gasp. He's only 18 months.
Maybe it was gas. Yes, yes, yes! It was a gas bubble that pushed on the nerve in his belly that controls his eyebrows and it caused them to furrow. And then the weight of the furrow pushed down on his cheeks and made the corners of his mouth scrunch up.
That's obviously it. Phew. I mean shit, that was close.