— Ken sits in his high chair, tiny fingers tapping the keyboard as if composing an epic Father’s Day tribute. His chubby cheeks flush slightly pink. His deep, rough, raspy, masculine voice fills the room, completely disproportionate to his tiny body, exuding confidence, warmth, and mini–commercial charisma. —

“Hey… yeah, you. Today’s the day we celebrate heroes. And I know one—right over there.”

— He turns his big blue eyes toward his caregiver, pointing with a tiny, wobbly hand, while giving a low, gravelly chuckle. —

“See him? He makes mornings magical, snacks disappear like magic… and don’t even get me started on the bottle game. Legendary. Absolute legend.”

— Ken taps the keyboard in mock-seriousness, voice deep and commanding, yet playful. —

“I’m small, I’m three, I can barely walk straight… but when it comes to admiration? I’ve got perspective. This guy? Father’s Day MVP. No contest. Pure hero energy.”

— Each word is delivered like a confident TV-ad punchline, mixing toddler gestures with a commercial-level performance. Even as he wiggles or fidgets, his voice remains deep, masculine, raspy, and commanding, full of warmth and charm.