Seabass’ 12-week birthday was Monday. We’ve waited patiently for this day for, oh, well, about 12 weeks I guess. And why? Because everyone says that colicky babies stop being nuts by then.
On Sunday night, C was fussing fussing fussing with the intensity of an Olympian training for an event. “You’re on the clock, buddy,” said Jake as we wheeled a screaming C around downtown, dodging peoples’ pitying and/or annoyed glances. “By midnight, your days of fussing had better be over, or else…or else we’ll start charging you for it.“
Midnight came and went. Nothing’s changed. He’s still nuts.
And oh man, is he gonna owe us big time.