You're on the floor playing with baby toys, developing your motor skills; tiny chubby fingers just barely able to handle the strange colorful objects. You're kind of tiny and chubby all over, actually.

Your big eyes look up at the towering couch where Jens sits, or as your baby instincts call him, dad.

Your small soft brain tells you he's sad. Table is full of papers and piles of sorted coupons. He runs a hand through his thinning hair, muttering words you don't know yet. Cuz' you're a baby.