Captain’s Log. Daddy Chronicles. Diaper Date 1569. I have survived three days on my own. The natives are restless. Currently, my arms are receiving rest thanks to the jumperoo that the diaper dweller is indulging in and expending precious energy (it didn’t last for long – he is sleepy now). The eldest is eating waffles and has not yet realized that the Christmas tree is no longer in the living room. Truthfully, it means more playspace so I don’t think she will be emotionally wounded when she does realize.
I think the dog is counting down the days until we return to work. She no longer seems amused with our daily exploits. She may also be as tired of Shrek the Halls as I am. However, without the use of opposible thumbs and speech, she is relegated to a life of sniffing cat litter, eating out of a bowl, and watching Shrek the Halls without a say in the matter.
It will be weird going back to work and not carrying around twenty pounds of drooling, wiggling, biting child. Or to be asked for candy every hour – oh wait, middle schoolers do that. I guess what I will miss the most are the smiles, hugs, laughter, the snuggles after the tears (I won’t miss the whining and crying too much), the games, the naps, and the random dance performances.
Well, it is time to put the passed out terror down for his nap (he has been falling asleep in my arms as I write this) and engage the eldest in some fun. Off for now…
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