You would think that living in a nice house filled with servants to take care of your every need 24 hours a day, with nutritious meals on demand, a wardrobe filled with all the latest fashions, a library full of books that it would take years to finish (let alone even begin), a great dog, and all the love that could possibly be poured out onto one person, would be enough to keep any guy from complaining.
But not Señor Fusspot. Even with four of us waiting on him hand and foot, feeding him every two hours day and night, changing his diapers and his clothes, burping him, and just plain holding him, he seems to cry all the time without apparent reason but to exercise his powerful lungs. Yes, we're awake long hours of the night, snatching naps in shifts during the day, putting aside virtually every other task but caring for him, and still he's somehow unhappy to the point where he's really convinced Tucker that we brought home a noisemaking machine instead of a baby brother.
Still, we adore Alex without limit. And we hope he'll grow out of this by the time he's, say, eighteen.
Posted by wasylik at June 15, 2003 01:25 PM | TrackBack