*finally pulls you closer and cradles you against his chest, patting your back awkwardly and turning his head, closing his eyes, as though your impossible softness and fragility and the sweet smell of baby powder and baby are turning his stomach (because they kind of are)*
*a bit desperately, bouncing you like he thinks he saw his mother do with one of the younger boys once* Shhh...at least wait until we're downstairs and I can blame the crying on your grandfather?
*walks swiftly out to the corridor and heads downstairs*