As he bounced around in our bed this morning, Miles suddenly recoiled from me, “Ugh! It smell bad!”
“What smells bad?” Jaclyn asked.
“Daddy smell bad!” Miles replied.
Assuming he was talking about my breath, I did that thing where you try to cover your mouth with a hand and breathe out to verify your own halitosis. Miles, meanwhile, had started furiously rubbing his hands on his face.
“Aaaa!” he cried out. “It hurts!”
At that point, I stopped trying to smell my own breath. I can take a hint.
The Perils (& Pride) of Paternity 