If your Grandma wasn’t there, we’d probably just let you drown while we talked about digital photography and video.
Your Dad lobbed the tip of your thumb while trying to clip your fingernails. And you bled. And you screamed. A lot.
Your Dad fell asleep on the couch with an open beer sitting on the coffee table. He only took one sip from said beer before he conked out. You woke up early Sunday morning, walked about the house and found Dad’s beer from the night prior. We don’t know how much, if any, beer your actually drank.  You did manage to cover the front of your pajamas though. And you asked your Mom and I if we had any cigarettes.
Mom has had difficulties producing enough breast milk. Dad said, “That’s okay, we’ll just fill her up with formula so she’ll fall asleep.” After two days of implementing Dad’s Thinking, Mom consulted the professionals only to find out that Dad’s Thinking was the absolute worst idea in the world.
I’m not going to name names but someone drank a margarita or two and then nursed you.
On more than one occasion, Dad forgot to wipe front to back.
I can see the post now: “Odd things Maly consumes.”