As I drove to the studio to meet my brothers, Tyson was making sounds in the backseat to entertain himself. His little feet were kicking his chair, and he was waving his arms around, trying to touch the window. When one of my songs came on the radio, he stopped. I glanced back at him through the rear view mirror. He was leaning his head against the side of his seat, just listening to the radio as my voice and my brothers' voices rang through the truck. I pulled up to the studio and groaned when it was surrounded my paparazzi. I hated having Tyson around all their yelling and craziness because it scared him. I climbed out of my truck, ignoring their questions, and made my way through them to Tyson's door as they collapsed onto my vehicle like an angry swarm of bees. "Guys, excuse me! Can you please step back?" I asked loudly over the sound of their voices. They didn't seem to hear me. I reached opened Tyson's door and unbuckled him from his car seat. He looked frightened as I pulled him into my arms. He hid his face in my chest as I closed the door. I moved his head slightly so one of his ears was pressed against my chest, and I covered the other with my free hand. I slowly made my way through the crowd of photographers. It helped when Big Rob rushed out and plowed through them to make a clear path to the studio door. Ever since the world found out about Tyson, the paps have gone insane. I entered the studio to find my producer, Kevin, Nick, and Miley all talking about ...
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