following nights like last night (during which I got up just about every 2 hours exactly)
that make me think I could very easily be mad at my little girl.
And then I go to change her, and I get:
and I'm like, "Mad? What's mad?"
"Wait, who's mad?"
"I'm not mad!"
"Um...what was the question?"
I guess anger and chubby cheeks just don't mix.