Daylight savings time has officially screwed our household. W woke up BEFORE five a.m. this morning and instead of immediately heading downstairs to his bedroom door to scoop him up, I paused for a moment and considered jumping off of the balcony (Dear brother, please don’t call me and ask me if I’m depressed. I’m not. I’m just tired.). To my surprise, however, the Hubs took matters in to his own hands and rescued baby. They hung out until the little rooster dozed off again about an hour and a half later. This never would have happened if I was up with him because he gets too distracted by boobs and the morning routine and boobs. I got to sleep until 8 a.m. which almost as good as getting diamond earrings for Christmas (insert subtle hint to the Hubs here).
Our time together this morning was short and sweet. As we were saying our good-byes, W decided to smack me in the face a few times with his tiny hand and as I turned to give him the business, he had a huge, happy grin on his face which immediately diffused the situation and was quickly replaced with giant, cheek puckering kissy sounds that he makes every time the Hubs and I smooch. He loves getting in on the act. Little fish face.
And so, we go. And it’s date night tonight. More tomorrow.
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