“You were at the damn window watching the street again. Good grief, child. You’re going to be the death of me.” “I’m not a child, and I’ll do as I please,” I mumbled under my breath, but Dad didn’t hear me.
Trust me, no matter how old you are you'll always be his child, his baby boy, or even, as my daughter loves to call her (now nine-year-old )daughter, "my tiny zygote".😂
