A few days ago, Faedon was rummaging around his room well after hours. As I opened the door, I see him hunched over something in the middle of the room; the nightlight illuminating his back. "Faedon, what are you doing?" I ask. "Cleaning my robot... always cleaning. Dad..." He's got the baby lotion out, the wet wipes and some powder. I take the lotion away, assuring him it's not a cleaning supply. "But leave the wet wipes... I'm gonna need those..."
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