Almost as good as Cheaters: undeniable evidence of my partner’s maaaybe-too-close bond with our “first baby,” Little Bear. Our trial run may have failed in the potty training department, but we are co-sleeping PROS. Obvs!
I know it’s late, but there was no way I could avoid posting the photo I took when I checked in on Li’l G a few minutes ago. Look at that deep, peaceful, open-mouthed, drooling-on-everything sleep! I sho hope that’s where I’m about to be in 3, 2, 1…
The way B sleeps makes me completely insane; how does he fall asleep so quickly? How can he sleep through me shouting at the TV every time a sexist commercial for a cleaning product is on? And how can he POSSIBLY not wake up or even roll over when I hit him for the twelfth time because he’s snoring that really annoying snore that makes him sound like a squeak toy?!
You might say that it’s because he’s a real man, doing real man physical labor every day and falling asleep real-man style, without a care in the world because there’s no way he would ever allow pussy-ass emotions to keep him up. You might say that.
Or, you might say that he’s just the kind of person whose two favorite things are sleeping and beer, and that, now that he’s found a way to have both at once, he’s never going to miss out on a chance to do it again. I mean, you gotta admit: dude’s got his priorities in order.
PS: for more information about Real Manhood, check out AskMen.com’s definitive list. The truthiness contained therein delivers a jolt to the reader so powerful that it has been known to reverse the effects of heroin overdose.
Wanna see something cool?
Of course you do. Why do people always ask this question? It’s almost as bad as, “Can I talk to you?” Well, I guess you’ve answered that question for me by ASKING it. Yo, bitch, would it have been so hard to compose an email asking the same question and send it to me? At least then there would be a semblance of choice.
So, anyway, here’s Graham in the car. Maybe it’s a teeny, tiny bit of an imposition, but I feel fairly certain that my son passing out with a bottle still in his mouth signifies a level of dedication that he could only have inherited from his mom’s side of the family.
You know what’s better than waking up to this genetically-gifted little face?
When his dad gets up and plays with him on a Saturday morning so I can sleep in, get up, put pasta, butter, cheddar cheese and salt together in a bowl, inhale it like I didn’t just eat two helpings of it beore I went to sleep last night, yawn, scratch my butt, and go back to bed again.
Don’t even fight me on this one, sanctimommies. It’s better. You know it is.