As your father stood at the side of the crib your mother had built for your brood, he reached out and picked you up. You could feel the warmth of his love before the warmth of his hands ever reached you, something that seemed to stir your siblings a bit, not risking to wake them from their sleep, but instead bringing pleased smiles as they basked in it. Even you couldn't resist the delighted squeals as you sat in your father's palm, your tongue flicking out uncontrollably as you twisted your head to rub your face into one of your dad's thumbs.