Oh right. He’s a baby. And he’s concerned. Concerned that bony protrusions are slicing up his gums. Concerned that he hasn’t mastered crawling and the cat is just… out… of… reach. Concerned that I refuse to rock him for an hour and a half while he catches some Zs.
This jabbering is keeping me from napping. Napping is keeping me from getting more sick. And, as I’ve said before, being sick when you can’t call in sick is UNFAIR. It’s even worse when it’s your husband’s birthday. Your super fabulous husband who deserves breakfast in bed and cake and presents and decorations and all of this happening in a house that is not covered in snotty tissue, dirty dishes and unfolded laundry. And for that, Graham and I apologize.
Happy Birthday Rob! Maybe Graham is just so excited for you he can’t sleep.