softandsquishygfd: Good Morning I roll over, stretching and yawning, and I reach over to run my fingers through my boy’s hair. “Morning, baby boy.” I murmur. He grumbles. “Not a baby.” His eyes still closed, his default response to that statement.
softandsquishygfd: Good Morning I roll over, stretching and yawning, and I reach over to run my fingers through my boy’s hair. “Morning, baby boy.” I murmur. He grumbles. “Not a baby.” His eyes still closed, his default response to that statement.
softandsquishygfd: Good Morning I roll over, stretching and yawning, and I reach over to run my fingers through my boy’s hair. “Morning, baby boy.” I murmur. He grumbles. “Not a baby.” His eyes still closed, his default response to that statement.
softandsquishygfd: Good Morning I roll over, stretching and yawning, and I reach over to run my fingers through my boy’s hair. “Morning, baby boy.” I murmur. He grumbles. “Not a baby.” His eyes still closed, his default response to that statement.
softandsquishygfd: Good Morning I roll over, stretching and yawning, and I reach over to run my fingers through my boy’s hair. “Morning, baby boy.” I murmur. He grumbles. “Not a baby.” His eyes still closed, his default response to that statement.
softandsquishygfd: Good Morning I roll over, stretching and yawning, and I reach over to run my fingers through my boy’s hair. “Morning, baby boy.” I murmur. He grumbles. “Not a baby.” His eyes still closed, his default response to that statement.
softandsquishygfd: Good Morning I roll over, stretching and yawning, and I reach over to run my fingers through my boy’s hair. “Morning, baby boy.” I murmur. He grumbles. “Not a baby.” His eyes still closed, his default response to that statement.
softandsquishygfd: Good Morning I roll over, stretching and yawning, and I reach over to run my fingers through my boy’s hair. “Morning, baby boy.” I murmur. He grumbles. “Not a baby.” His eyes still closed, his default response to that statement.
softandsquishygfd: Good Morning I roll over, stretching and yawning, and I reach over to run my fingers through my boy’s hair. “Morning, baby boy.” I murmur. He grumbles. “Not a baby.” His eyes still closed, his default response to that statement.
softandsquishygfd: Good Morning I roll over, stretching and yawning, and I reach over to run my fingers through my boy’s hair. “Morning, baby boy.” I murmur. He grumbles. “Not a baby.” His eyes still closed, his default response to that statement.
