I Blame Whoopsie For Feeding My Obsession - Blog Posts

Wally Clark Headcanons

Our babe loves to have his hair played with. It's one of the only things that truly relaxes him. Initially, he asks you to run your fingers through his hair just when he's extra stressed. Too much going on. Can't sleep, brain too busy, please help.

But then it becomes routine. Whenever you're lying together on the couch, watching a movie, he'll scooch over and lay his head in your lap, give you a sweet smile and then melt when you start to comb through his hair. He always falls asleep. Always.

Cuddled with you in bed, right before lights out, he'll nudge you with his nose; blink big eyes at you and ask, "head pats?" And how the hell can you say no? Have you seen those sweet brown cow-eyes!? That little pout!? You oblige instantly.

Still, there comes a day when you're maybe wondering if he's taking advantage. You're grumpy and overstimulated and annoyed, and he never asks anymore, just assumes you'll do The Thing if he gets in your space and presents his hair.

So, when it comes time for bed and he gently snuggles up, arm over your waist, head on your chest, expecting you to do what you always do...you decide not to. And he notices instantly. He gazes up at you, "head pats?" with those eyes. You don't move. Wally nuzzles his head against you, a tiny whine, and then, finally, a mousy little, "please?"

If you don't go gooey at that and give that boy his head scratches, you don't have a heart. Pointe finale.