K, last week I was on the floor playing with you and H.

At some point, you circled behind me and got to rubbing my hair.

A few minutes later, I picked you up on my shoulders and you rubbed my hair with even more vigor.

I said:

“K, what are you doing?”

You said:

“Dad, I’m fuzzin your hair.”

Ha.

My girl.

You can fuzz my hair any old time.

On a side-note, I just love the way you run through the house right now.

It sounds crazy, but the way your hair swishes back and forth and the pitter-patter of your feet has a sweetness to it that I wish I could bottle up and hold forever.

I love you.

-Dad