Baboos is now with Paul. I've asked for my own D&D night (i.e., a night away as a trade for his regular Wednesday game). I was about to start my excursion to the front room (this is where I write, in theory... it's really where I pet the cats and wander around in a book-induced haze trying to figure out what I could be reading). I was about to settle in when he started crying (Silas, not Paul). I went to the kitchen to see what was wrong. Paul had him. I went back to the front room. I couldn't work. I couldn't putter around in the front room. My right boob hurt. I went back to the kitchen. I tried to take him away from Paul. Paul told me to get out of the house.
I'm at Top Pot. Silas is sleeping. Or he's crying. Paul has him. I have nine minutes left of my D&D night.
Apparently, if I start laughing right now, Silas will receive a significant health benefit (or at least be less likely to be itchy...thanks, Jill, for the tip!). If I were a good mom, I would laugh right now. Laugh, damn it. I have three minutes left.
Here's my baboos:
Paul just called. The baby is stirring.
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