When I was young, I was tired, my eyes barely open, and my father would pick me up, and carry me in his arms up the stairs. He would lay me on my bed, pulling up the sheets, and he would kiss me gently on the forehead. He would say sleep tight. Don’t let the bedbugs bite. And as I began to nod off to dreamland, one nagging spark kept me awake. Who were these bedbugs, and why would they want to bite me?
I say just eat with your fingers. Built in fork and knife.
Beautiful
♥️