There are many games in the house, but one of Julius’s most confusing and oddly tolerated favorites involves Dad and a very bold move.

It starts innocently enough. Dad leans in, gently pinches Julius’s beak, and declares, “Got your nose.”

Julius freezes.

For a brief moment, his brain is clearly working overtime. His eyes widen just slightly, his crest lifts a notch, and his body goes still as if he’s thinking, I’m pretty sure I need that. He doesn’t panic. He doesn’t squawk. He just stares—deeply, intensely—trying to understand how his nose could possibly be gone when he can still feel everything. The judgment is immediate. The confusion is real. The patience is thin. Dad, of course, plays it up, proudly holding the “nose” between his fingers like a magic trick that absolutely should not work. Julius watches closely, clearly debating whether this is a joke, a betrayal, or an act of mild sorcery.

And then release.

The nose is returned. Order is restored. Julius blinks, shakes his head slightly, and gives a look that says, Do not do that again… but also I’m allowing it. It’s one of those moments that perfectly captures Julius’s personality: dramatic but trusting, suspicious but tolerant, always judging—but still choosing to stay close.

Because when Dad takes Julius’s nose, it’s not just a game. It’s one more strange little ritual that proves trust, love, and a whole lot of patience… on Julius’s part.