Papa do Preach

This evening, I had the hardest time getting Nibbles to sleep. He’d nurse for a few minutes, doze off, then start crying all of a sudden. All I did was thrust the silver bullet (my boob) back into his face till he passed out again. This routine went on for a bit, and a tired Big Byte walked in.
BB: “What’s wrong with Nibbles? Trouble sleeping?”
NP: “Dunno. He ate well, drank milk too…I think” *pinches areola to check supply and squirts milk all over the place*
BB: “Whoa!” *ducks* “Yes, there’s enough milk.”
NP: “Maybe it’s a ear infection? Or he’s teething”
BB: *rolls eyes after hearing default diagnoses for nth time* “Why’s he kicking around so much?”
NP: “Oh! That’s his new thing. He enjoys it. I think it’s kinda cute…”
BB: *starts massaging Nibbles’ legs* “Maybe they’re hurting. He’s been standing all day, no?”
NP: “Hmmm…”

Duh! Nibbles finally settled down, continued to feed in peace and fell fast asleep. He has been so excited with his ability to stand, that he even tries to feed standing. Of course his lil’ legs must be overworked.

So much for mother’s instinct.

Never On A Sunday

There’s nothing like spending the first beautiful Sunday in ages – you know, with bursting greens, bustling strollers, chirping birds, sexy breeze and all? – stuck at home resuccitating a laptop brought to its knees by a deadly virus. Seriously though Big Byte, was there any need to catch a few minutes of the damn IPL game on a day like that? I know, I know, you feel awful enough and you did bring her back to life, with her memory intact. But a gal’s gotta vent, so…AaargH!