(Or rather, in praise of a particular one.)
Leah fussed all night. I don't know why because she usually is a great sleeper, she's got the nursing down pat, burps well and is generally really easy to handle. Well, we all have our good and bad hours. This morning at 7:30, Jacob came into the room and insisted on reading a book. It delights me that he loves books as much as he does but I had been up for most of the night and didn't feel like discussing the merits of various tractors regarding size, color and special equipment (Jacob loves balers).
Doug, who must have had a bad night himself, got up and took Jacob and Leah away, while I mumbled, "Give me half an hour."
Two hours later I woke up from deep, deep sleep, almost refreshed. The kids were all dressed and fed (and changed, if applicable) and had just finished watching the first cartoon of the day, the living room was not in a state of mess (which is, alas, its natural state), the breakfast table was cleaned off, the dishwasher ran, and Leah was sleeping deeply.
Really. How can you not love a man like that?
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