When my parents first got divorced, I thought I'd never forgive my father to the extent where I'd acctually agree to meet him. One year later my ickle brother is born. The most beautiful child I've ever seen forcing me to actually change words, sentences with my deadbeat father. He has the tiniest ickle hands, chubby ickle feet and that strongest most contageous laughter you've ever heard. And being only one year old, he's the best peacemaker there is. How else can you explain me talking to dad? AR

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