Grumpy Old Man

Even though I have it on good authority that August is two days shy of 22 months old, I sometimes suspect that he’s actually 82.

And ornery.

I mean, who else would wear his pants so magnificently? Who else so utterly refuses to comb his wild locks? Who else can scowl with such practiced indifference?

That’s my boy. I have so much to learn from him.

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