Greetings once again, dear interwebs, from the land of onehanded blackberry posts. I hope this dispatch finds you well. Or at least better than, say, rocking a sumo baby, supported entirely by one unathletic forearm, in a dark corner of your quiet bedroom with only a sound machine and nightstand as company.
I don’t know what’s wrong with my spawn but he’s been an inconsolable mess for the last twelve hours. Even le boob fails to calm him. This has never happened before and I’m lost. Several things could be to blame, too low of a doseage for his weight on zantac or teething being the most likely. Now my pinkie is cramping so it’s adios for now. Don’t be alarmed if you happen upon my home and hear the screams of an angry wee one being drowned out by the whir of a blender. Who wants salt?