Hands off my little girl, buster!

When my wife sends me photos of my daughter from an afternoon of fun, I don’t expect them to be littered with images of some blond-haired interloper who appears to be getting overly friendly with my little girl. 

I’m not ready for that.  Not for a very, very long time.

  

These are the kinds of things that I want to see my daughter getting friendly with at the farm. 

Cats.

Bunnies would be fine, too.  

Not golden-haired ne'er-do-wells.