Thursday, January 26, 2012

Ah, parenting...

I'm standing in Genevieve's room, laying awkwardly over the rail of her crib and patting her back at a precarious angle from behind, so she doesn't see my face. Knowing I was there would piss her off. I suppose dismembered limbs are plenty soothing, as long as they pat her nicely.

I hear an ominous "click" and look over to Payne's doorway. I see him peek around the door frame, poke a miniature blue light saber at me, and go "pshoo!". He is wearing cowboy boots, blue boxer briefs, and a t-shirt.

I finish patting Genevieve, hit the deck, and crawl on my hands and knees across her room (she can't see me, remember?) in order to go deal with my non napping space age ranch hand.


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