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Guys get baby fever too, you know.
He's actually almost respectable.
Like all of these.
Roommate: "Dude, what are you watching?!"
You: "NOTHING!" sniffle. "I thought you were going out tonight?"
"I'll be good to my daughters, John," you blubber as you blow your nose. "I promise."
It's impossible not to fantasize about having one on your shoulders too.
You try to play it off, but you love it.
Outwardly you make fun of people who call their dog their baby, but inwardly...
"What the hell, Brad? This was supposed to be about zombies. ZOMBIES!"
It's almost too cute to handle if she's standing on her dad's shoes.
And thinking, "What if?"