X-Man has been very sweet to Gestated Cinco. He may resent
me for uprooting his life, but he bears no ill will to his baby sister. In
fact, as I was changing her diaper, X-Man was leaning in, cooing “ni ni” or “nice
nice” which is my constant refrain when he is in her presence. Moved by the
moment, I reached over to stroke his fat cheek, and left a streak of baby poop
on his face.
That perfectly summarizes my life at the moment.
Gestated Cinco is crying and X-Man is yelling at Baby “Mine mine mee” because he thinks he should be the one to put the binky in her mouth. And I am forced to admit that I believe the highlight of this week, the week Gestated is a full month old, will be my successful teaching of X-Man to do the Night at the Roxbury dance whenever the new ringtone for his dad goes off. I got tired of White and Nerdy. It was actually quite the accomplishment in my mind.
Hey, I own my mediocrity.
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