|Nine months old and proud (yes, I am aware he looks like a toddler)|
Already incredibly good natured about the twelve odd pound Squit who has been bunking down in the marital bed for nine months now (gulp), I am amazed that the husband can still keep a sense of humour when all about him, others are losing theirs (ahem...).
With all the chubby cuteness, precocious comedy value and squidgy fat cheeks to pinch (all the live long day) it is easy to forget that having a(nother) baby means that you willingly forego uninterrupted, delicious sleep for the foreseeable. And this can make you cranky. Especially in the middle of the night when said twelve pound squit is slapping you upside the head (why do all my baby boys do this??) demanding to be put back to sleep...courtesy of le nipple.
So, last night I just ignored the plaintive whining, covered my exposed facial parts with a forearm and tried to fall back asleep. The Squit wasn't having it. Nor was the husband.
"Come on...hook a brother up," the husband muttered.
I ignored this.
The husband repeated himself, this time with a plaintive tone creeping into his voice.
"Come on...hook a brother up!"
It was all I could do not to snort out loud, but being bloody exhausted and half asleep, all I could manage at the time was a responding snuffle as I pulled the Squit close and made good on the request.
This morning I reminded the husband what he had said, and he barely remembered it - claiming he had probably been dreaming.
I daresay a new family catchphrase has been born.