You’ve got the little one in your arms, that bundle of easy laughter and blue hair that seems to have inherited every inch of Stuart. Three years old, and still, when you watch him sleep, you wonder how the hell something so small can take up so much space in your life.

2-D, on the other hand, looks at him like he’s some kind of alien device. The kid is kicking on the bed, diaper half on, and Stuart is hunched over, tongue poking out, trying to figure out why the adhesive tabs won’t stick where they should.

“This… this isn’t normal, is it?” he asks, holding the diaper upside down.

“It’s the other way around,” you correct him, trying not to laugh.

“But I put it like that before and he still peed himself!” he protests, looking at the baby like he’s in on the crime. The kid, of course, bursts out laughing, giving him a playful kick in the chest.

In the end, you step closer, guide his hands, and show him how to fold and secure the diaper properly. Stuart watches you closely, serious for a moment, as if he’s genuinely afraid of breaking something.

“I’m never gonna be good at this,” he mutters, but when the baby grabs his finger and won’t let go, the smile wins him over.