Dear Morpheus, son of Hypnos, how I do miss you.
So, I’ve got myself one of those, what do you call them… ? Ah, yes. Children. And now I can’t seem to find enough time to do anything, especially sleep. And in case you didn’t know, I really, really like to sleep. At least I think I do. It’s so hard to remember since the last time I slept was months ago and I believe it was for a whole three seconds.
Come to think on it, that might have just been a long blink.
Anywaste, as I have discovered, these children things are like adult anti-sleep pills in tiny demon form. They drown your ability to sleep as if they were some giant vat of Red Bull and, even if all they’re doing is sleeping themselves, you find yourself sitting at the edge of their crib watching them sleep to make sure they’re sleeping well.
It’s as if this mini-beast has swallowed my free will.
However, it should be noted that just as some hostages form symbiotic bonds with their captors, I find myself willingly submitting to my new master’s will. When she cries for food, I find HoBiscuit and offer her to my tiny goddess. Should the Mighty Baby desire a nap, I will gladly kill the garbage truck driver who dares to meander down our street with his loud truck that caused her to furrow her brow. And should she have gas, I am first to gently pat her back and help that nasty air get out. But, what about the poop, you ask? Well, I have to draw the line somewhere and my line is right above the Mighty Babies buttocks. Because for “Teh p00p” we have a wall hook, a power wash hose and a hair dryer.
OMG, that stuff is nasty!
