While sitting on the floor yesterday, Benevolent Dictator crawls over, unsteadily pulls herself up on me and then yanks my shirt neckline down. One tiny, cool hand begins groping my boobs. She then sticks her head down my shirt to inspect the contents and giggles gleefully.
It's like MTV's Spring Break here, only with an almost-one-year-old instead of drunken frat boys.
"Oh honey," I say. "You're just like your daddy."