Wah.
Last night my wife brought home a four-month old baby.
I'm not going to get into the back-story, because of privacy concerns and the fact it might drive me to homicide. I was already contemplating the very many places Alaska provides to dig a shallow grave, and how the native wildlife can be a real help in disposing of evidence.
It was a one-night affair, while other arrangements were made. I was good with the finite nature of the visit. It was kinda like being a grandparent, or in this case, a great grandparent, because I am old and the mother is very, very, very young.
I gotta admit the kid was pretty cute, and relatively well behaved. Couldn't carry on an intelligent conversation to save his life, but at least he could hold his head up unassisted. He was at that magical age where you could set him down and go out for a beer or two, and a couple hours later he'd still be in exactly the same spot. Not that I would, but it's always nice to have that capability in your back pocket. His whimpers and cries weren't as piercing as my youngest son's, but they gave a general indication of his mood. We reached a sort of understanding in the short time he was here.
I set up the playpen my son slept in next to the bed in my room. I lined it with soft fleece blankets and tried to make it as comfortable as possible. He went to sleep fairly easily, given that this was a strange place and we were all strange people. Every couple hours he would stir a bit and either me or my wife would get up and tend to his needs. Can't say I missed that part of the job.
This morning my wife posted on Facebook, "Kudos to all those who have infants. Getting up multiple times a night is for the birds at my age!!" I had to remind her that she is still five years younger than I was when we had our youngest. I think she finally gets it.
Eventually it was time for the little critter to go. Can't say I was sorry to see him leave. He was a nice enough baby as those things go, but he wasn't mine. I'm not interested in making him mine. I have more than enough as it is, and even if I didn't, I'm not in any kind of shape to go through that again. You have to be young and actively train for those sorts of stresses. I can barely stay on a bike at my age.
It's someone else's turn.
I'm not going to get into the back-story, because of privacy concerns and the fact it might drive me to homicide. I was already contemplating the very many places Alaska provides to dig a shallow grave, and how the native wildlife can be a real help in disposing of evidence.
It was a one-night affair, while other arrangements were made. I was good with the finite nature of the visit. It was kinda like being a grandparent, or in this case, a great grandparent, because I am old and the mother is very, very, very young.
I gotta admit the kid was pretty cute, and relatively well behaved. Couldn't carry on an intelligent conversation to save his life, but at least he could hold his head up unassisted. He was at that magical age where you could set him down and go out for a beer or two, and a couple hours later he'd still be in exactly the same spot. Not that I would, but it's always nice to have that capability in your back pocket. His whimpers and cries weren't as piercing as my youngest son's, but they gave a general indication of his mood. We reached a sort of understanding in the short time he was here.
I set up the playpen my son slept in next to the bed in my room. I lined it with soft fleece blankets and tried to make it as comfortable as possible. He went to sleep fairly easily, given that this was a strange place and we were all strange people. Every couple hours he would stir a bit and either me or my wife would get up and tend to his needs. Can't say I missed that part of the job.
This morning my wife posted on Facebook, "Kudos to all those who have infants. Getting up multiple times a night is for the birds at my age!!" I had to remind her that she is still five years younger than I was when we had our youngest. I think she finally gets it.
Eventually it was time for the little critter to go. Can't say I was sorry to see him leave. He was a nice enough baby as those things go, but he wasn't mine. I'm not interested in making him mine. I have more than enough as it is, and even if I didn't, I'm not in any kind of shape to go through that again. You have to be young and actively train for those sorts of stresses. I can barely stay on a bike at my age.
It's someone else's turn.
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