Hot and cold...

Dear Nicky,

Mom and I, mostly me, agonize over the temperature in your room. Is it too hot or is it too cold? The stupid heating/cooling units they have in this apartment seem to kick in whenever they feel like it. One's running right now, for instance, shooting an invisible waterfall of cold air right down my neck. I can't stand it as a matter of fact. I'm going to go turn it down. Be right back... Okay, I'm back. I don't like being hot and stuffy any more than the next man, but I hate having icy-cold air pouring all over my skin, you know what I mean? There's something about that frigid, dessicated air that just rubs me the wrong way. This afternoon the three of us went for a walk outside. We sat on a bench and then Mom went and got a Slushie for herself and a soft-serve cherry dip cone for me. I gave you the tiniest taste of my ice cream. Your little tongue came out and took a lick and you smiled. It was pretty darn cute.

Love,
Dad