“It’s bigger than the baby!” she protested, but as she watched her three-day-old son curl a tiny hand possessively around the stuffed tiger’s tail she knew that she was going to lose this argument.
“So? He’ll grow into it.” He gazed at the tableau with the besotted smile of a man who has had only three hours sleep in the last twenty-four. “And it’s much more original than a teddy bear.”
“All right,” she said. Had she really seen the tiger sniffing the baby’s hair? “But it can’t sleep in the bed. Not until he’s too big to be eaten.”