And by “special”, I mean “don’t give her anything she’s not supposed to eat or bang her head against”.

Editor’s Note: I’ve looked at this photograph for a while now and I still can’t figure out what the hell this guy is giving her. A ball of tin foil perhaps? Because that would explain why she’s so happy and why I can’t find mine. And if that is mine, then she needs to seriously give it back before I throw a tantrum and invade the Middle East. Hey, don’t judge me; I was born this way. It’s what “we” do.