Today's mission: Do the laundry.Mission accomplished? Sort of. Two loads are completely done (washed, dried and put away), a full load of baby stuff is nicely folded and organized in a basket, and another load is spinning in the dryer as I write this. That leaves two more—the whites and colours I forgot in the damn bedroom hamper.
Things learned:
- Staying up until past midnight when you're the primary caregiver is never a good idea. Doing it the night before Laundry Day is just plain stupid.
- Babies are not so good at helping out with the laundry, but they're great supervisors. More than about two minutes out of visual range of babygirl's ExerSaucer office, and I'd start hearing the demanding squawks. I felt like a sweatshop employee.
- Getting your nose grabbed by a baby is something they should try for interrogating terror suspects. The pain is matched only by the element of surprise. The pincer grip on the bulb part isn't what gets you; it's the other little fingers reaching and clutching with eye-watering tenacity inside your nostril, and the terrible raking of those tiny fingernails. Of all the Zombie Baby Attacks in her arsenal, this is among the most fearsome. So far.
3 comments:
That picture is fantastic. And, yes, baby zombie attacks are as cute as they are uncomfortable.
I'm glad to know that Darren isn't in the majority of men who think that laundry is "done" when it's in a mountain-sized pile on the bed.
That is to say that was his assessment when he was on parental leave, but not now.
Post a Comment