#Chapter72
Baby Oz liked looking. Which was to say his pretty brown eyes were always watching me. I was still convinced that his sight wasn't too great, as there were times when he'd sit there squinting at me from across the room, creeping closer and closer so he could see me better.
But that wasn't his only giveaway, or even always a symptom, as big Oz liked to admire me a lot, too.
But for some reason, baby Oz loved my stubble. I hated the itchiness, and would rarely allow it to grow beyond a three-day shadow, but Oz seemed to adore the feeling. His fingers would always find my cheeks, and without even realising, he would rub his thumb and index against them. He also squealed in happiness when I would take my face and rub our cheeks together so that the bristles scraped his face.
He was an odd boy, but I wouldn't have changed it. It made it exciting and fun, and I loved spotting new quirks that differentiated his two mindsets.
