That Laugh

I thought I was a stoic, a grouch, a crank, and I probably am. But hearing my daughter laugh makes me melt like plastic in the microwave.

When she’s laying down and she’s been fed and changed and had her nap I tickle her tummy with my long nose which has finally found its purpose in life and she lets out a cackle.

It’s predictable. I know when it’s coming. Still every single time it gets me.

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