Off to Work I Go

Drake is not happy about me going back to work. For that matter, neither is Remi. And can you blame her? I'm most of what her short little life has been about. Until now.

So off I go at 11 pm, confident that Drake and Remi will sort things out. And then 9 hours later in I walk, "Hello! How're things!"

"There's no time to chat," Drake replies urgently. "Take the baby."

The room is a disaster. Diapers and changing pads strewn about the floor, comforter and sheets in a tangled mess. A near empty bottle peeks out from beneath a pillow, and Drake's hair stands out from her head on all sides. My mouth falls open, Drake is at wits' end, and the baby, well... she has no pants, and a big grin on her face.

It would appear that Drake was more traumatized by my absence than Remi was.

Of course, I eventually got the whole story. How Remi had no patience for the time it took to heat a bottle. How she took one look at the bottle and let out a scream of refusal. How she was still hungry after the first bottle, so Drake quickly put together a 2nd one out of the fridge, didn't even take the time to heat it, but apparently didn't screw the lid on all the way, either, thereby causing cold milk to pour all over the Poobah. So then she had a cold, wet, hungry, screaming baby who needed an outfit change.

And of course there's a part of me that thinks the whole thing is pretty funny. Though I know it wasn't at all funny at 2 am.

P.S. There is no way I am allowed to publish a picture of Drake and her hair, so this post shall remain photo-less.