You Should've Raised A Baby Girl, I Should've Been A Better Son

It seems Moony's family has accepted me fully as another one of the kids. Her mother, especially.

When we left the flat the other day Moony's mum grabbed her face gently and kissed her cheek, then immediately did it to me, and called us her darlings.

I made coffee for her both days this weekend because Moony was working long shifts so I didn't bother going along, and she called me a darling again. I pretty much skipped in a very unmanly fashion back to our bedroom.

Her grandpa called us his little ones at the hospital the other day when we first arrived, seeming so proud, and her brother hugs me, has a nickname for me. Calls us babies...

Her dad, well, he's difficult, kinda distant, not into hugs although I think we did once. It was weird.

And this is going to sound tragic, but I can't get over how good it feels to be loved so completely, to be called the right name consistently, to be accepted and appreciated. To have a mum that really cares and that I don't feel uncomfortable around, that I'm not always waiting for a trigger from.

What I'm pretty much trying to say, I guess, is that I wasn't lying when I said being here feels like being home.