I do not have children, but if you hand me a tiny crying baby, my first thoughts are, "You are very small and fragile and I must protect you with my life."
My second is to put them against my chest and walk up and down patting them.
Don't know where these people get punches from.
In the pictures, he's either lying down flat out, or being held up. No tummy time, no crawling, no independent sitting up. No giggling, no grasping, no shoving his wee hands in his mouth.
I think that is it, really. It seems a lot of people think this is a goal. Plus, with what little history we have, clearly nothing ever stuck for them. Schools, jobs, activities, identity...
Death, however, is quite permanent.
My mom died of glioblastoma. I...kind of get it? It was Hell. Absolute hell. And you can't do anything, because that's murder. And you don't want to sit in jail if you have kids.
F cancer.
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