This here bringer of the pooper to the fun party

The horror

Yesterday before I left to take Leta to physical therapy I peeked in on GEORGE! who was asleep on the couch. He was curled up, his head facing toward the back of the couch, and Chuck was snuggled up between GEORGE!’s knees and face. Chuck heard me peek around the corner of the room, and he looked up at me like, “I’m just gonna stay here for awhile, mmkay?” (can we all just scream, “AWESOME!”)

While at physical therapy Leta stood on her legs for the first time, with a little help from the therapist, Heidi, but she stood, and that’s SO MUCH PROGRESS. Her progress is slow, but we’re very encouraged, and to be honest, a little horrified. Last night she woke up screaming at 1 AM, and we went in to find her at a 45 degree angle face down in a pool of her own snot. We sucked out the goo with the syringe, shoved a bit of medicine into her mouth, calmed her down, and then put her back in bed. When we got up this morning she was facing 180 degrees from the position in which we put her down.

180 FUCKING DEGREES.

This means that the purchase of plastic outlet covers is upon us. PLASTIC. OUTLET. COVERS. Who came up with that whole concept? Some baby somewhere was sticking his tongue into an outlet, and his parent had to go, “Dude, I’ve got an idea, and we are so going to be rich.” And I am going to be putting money into that person’s pocket. All because our baby just HAS to go ahead and be mobile.

Life is so unfair.

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