I love Ed Sheeran. There. I said it. I mean, maybe I’m a fan? But also, I kind of want to bully him? I’m fairly sure that if I saw him on the street carrying a cup of coffee, I would slap it out of his hand and yell, “NERD!” in his face. Or maybe I find him sexually attractive? I guess? Maybe I want to be his mom? I can’t tell. But I do know that I am drawn to him like a moth to a delicious, ginger porchlight. I open my arms wide for your shock, disappointment, bewilderment, and horror. Heap your recriminations upon me and my alleged bad taste. But I guarantee you will never be as angry with me–or with Ed Sheeran–as my nine-year-old.