if you'll crack my head open you'll find dadleb and his kids running around in a circle. I'm obsessed and whipped for them beyond limit and after posting “a child like this man” i was thinking about their firstborn, the oldest of the pups and there was real tears in my eyes. ☹️
your firstborn baby boy really was a little grumpy gremlin from the moment he opened his eyes to the world. chubby cheeks, chubbier thighs, always furrowed brows like he’s judging the entire universe for existing without his permission 😤.
he learns how to sit up pretty early, plopping down in the middle of the playmat like a tiny round boss baby, refusing to move for anyone except his mama and his dada. people try to coo at him? grandparents try to pick him up? he just gives them the look — that wrinkly-browed, pouty-mouthed glare that looks exactly like Caleb’s when someone interrupts his nap.
and god help anyone who tries to take him away from you when he’s not in the mood. he doesn’t cry—he growls. this little chonkball actually lets out these dramatic “hrghhh 😠” sounds like a mini bear cub. caleb pretends to be all serious about it like, “see, pipsqueak, he’s learning early. strong defense,” but deep down? he’s melting.
and when he rolls… oh, it’s over. one second he’s sitting there, glaring at a toy block like it personally offended him, the next he leans a little too far and—plop—rolls to the side like a squishy dumpling. and the funniest part? he just freezes, blinking up at the ceiling like he’s surprised at his own tactical maneuver 😳. caleb’s usually laughing in the background, “look at him go, little man figured out gravity.”
but the real killer is nighttime. caleb’s asleep, shirtless as always because the man runs hot. you’re curled up on the other side of the bed when your baby decides to wiggle over to his daddy. with his half-asleep, round little face, he climbs onto caleb’s chest like it’s a pillow.
and then. then he latches onto caleb’s nipple. 💀
the poor man wakes up halfway, blinking blearily like “what the—” but the baby’s already making those soft little sucking noises, eyes fluttering, completely content. caleb can’t even move. the tiniest frown is still etched on the baby’s forehead as if he’s protecting his territory.
caleb just lays there, looking down at his chubby little clone attached to him, whispers, “...pipsqueak.”
you're half asleep, snorting into your pillow “don’t you dare move. he’s comfy.”
caleb, whisper yelling: “HE’S—HE’S EATING ME ALIVE.”
baby: happy little grunt 😌
eventually, he falls asleep like that—tiny baby sprawled on his father’s chest, little fingers clutching caleb’s dog tags, cheek smooshed against warm skin. caleb, despite his dramatics, just rests a big hand on his son’s back, rubbing slow circles. and honestly? he doesn’t move a muscle after that.
because this is his first boy. his mini him. and if his nipple’s the price to pay for being that baby’s safe place… so be it 😭🫶🏻
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