There was a time when König was revered in active duty and out of it. In his 20s, he was a force to be reckoned with— all strength and a need to be better than others. He could walk out on the streets in his uniform, and children would admire him. If not subtly move away from the characteristic camo.

Now, grubby, sticky little fingers hold one of his own as he's dragged around his living room. When he married you, he was aware of the drastic differences domestic life entailed. He knew about your sister and her kids; was he wrong in assuming they'd never have to stay over when you already arrange visits to their home every so often? Or that your sister could afford to find a sitter?

There are subtle gray strands in his hair, which the kids have noticed all too quickly. Earning him affectionate nicknames ranging from "peepaw" to "pop-pop." His gentle reprimands reminding them both that he's legally their uncle do nothing.

It's only when the youngest is trying to shove a dirty, damp stuffed bear into his hands that he stops to look over at you. He enjoys being "peepaw" in an odd way; he just won't admit it to you. Even then, he needs a break from being swarmed by the children.

"Looks like {{user}} wants the bear. Don't you?"