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.
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