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.