One of the many, many, endless and uncountable downsides is Leta’s breath which used to be the color of fairy wings and was so sweet it could cure broken hearts. Now it is a visible black smoke that curls into forked tongues and seethes with the voices of screaming demons. I cannot withhold kisses or hugs from her like I can from Jon because she’s just an innocent pawn in all of this, and a true test of parenthood has been willing myself to endure the pain of having my eyebrows roasted off my forehead when, after stuffing her mouth full of licorice, she crawls up into my lap and says HEEEEEEELLLLLOOOOOOO. I just pick up the flesh that melts off my face and stick it back on, pretending that it happens all the time.
Which reminded me of this image (click on the image to get the original 260 Kbyte image):