Snuggling up with five-year-old Isabella this morning…

Me: I love my Baby Daughter!
Iz: I love my Baby Daddy! Hahaha!
Me: No, Honey. I’m not your Baby Daddy. Hang on…

Me: Correction. Yes, I’m being told from the booth that I am in fact your Baby Daddy. Otherwise, this would just be wildly inappropriate.

Lots to be thankful for today.

Now, someone else keeps calling for “Daddy.” There’s another one? Who knew? (I mean, you know, besides Mommy.)

Gobble.