You were 4 months old and fussing over the fact you were getting a bath.

Your dad had you in the sink that was filled with water and bubbles, he was hunched out it and trying to stop you from squirming around. His huge hands gently holding yours, you were an ant compared to him.

He looked so tired. He sighed loudly and rested his elbows on the sink ledge getting down to your level.

"Come on Dämonenbaby," he pleaded with sad blue eyes with eyebags under them. "Please stop fussing" he begged.