K, I called you Fuzz Bert the other day.

I know that’s nothing in itself.

The main reason is that, well, I call you Fuzz Bert frequently.

Most often, I use it if your hair is particularly crazy – fuzzy – if you will.

This time, when I said it, however, you stopped.

You looked at me, shook your head, and in the most beautiful little voice said:

I not Fuzz Bert, I K.

My little angel.

I will gladly stop if you want me to.

Two is just the best age.

I love you.

-Dad