Somehow, though, the sight of me trying to relax is interpreted as an invitation to bombard me with kid attention.
Maybe I look all lonely with my magazine and look like I could use some company in the form of having my eye poked or a head-cracking cuddle. Maybe I look bored, like I'm wishing someone would come along and arrange an extensive collection of blocks on me. Maybe I look too serene, like I need an energy boost via being rolled on and bounced on like a horsey.
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My mom tells me all that attention is due to the fact that they love their mom so much. That must be it. I'll keep that in mind the next time my attempt at a ten-minute stretch on the couch is interrupted by a loving toddler butt in the face.