"The casino neighbor guy. He was dragging his garbage bin across the gravel out to the curb at two freaking a.m. I could hear him over the monitor from the baby's room."
"..eeh..?"
"It woke me up, and now I can't fall asleep."
"..ockaaysh.."
"Are you even listening to me? Are you even awake?"
"Anything you want to donate to Good Will before the end of the year?" "Uhh, sure. Here's a shirt and pants." "You are not getting rid of that sexy shirt." "It was my Halloween costume." "And it's going to be your 'cheerleader' costume on home movie night. Rawr. Go hang it up."
"Aww. Here's Daddy, stumbling in with my bottle for a 6am feeding. How sweet. I should do something for him, to make him feel appreciated. I know! I'll stroke his nipples lovingly while I suckle the bottle."
I was holding the baby against my chest. We were in Baby Gap. She was in a good mood. The women were melting. One busty young* thing with a sexy thick Castillian accent leans in close. "Ohhh, hello, aren't you so happy!"
And then she swoops in. Palm up, gently cupping.... Closer...closer.... It's not often that strange, sober girls just reach in like that. I actually jumped back a bit, giggling. What are you grabbin' for there, lady?
She really liked the little shoes. Ollie'll be wearing them more often.
*"Was she really busty and young?" "It's my blog...and yes."
We've reached a point where disappointment has shifted from intangible, "alas, the injustice of the world, boo hoo" to concrete, damnable blame: "You! You did this!"
We met the boy's kindergarten teacher last night. "Oh, hi, it's so nice to meet you! The TA and I just love what you put in his lunches every day. We think it's hilarious." "Huh? Oh, uh, yeah, ha ha."
Later, discretely to the wife: "What do we put in his lunches every day?" "Raw spinach and whole wheat cous cous. Why?"
Me, smacking my teeth, "Ugh, I don't like this new kind of Cheez-Its you bought. They're all gooey in my teeth." "Why don't you brush?" "Because I don't want all this sticky crap in my toothbrush."
I walked in on her pumping something into her bath water. Me, looking at the bottle, "Did you just put acne wash into the tub?" "We're out of bubble bath."
Me, scooching close lovingly on the sofa, "Ouch, what did you do to your hand?" "Hmm? Oh. It must be from my nose." Pause. "What?" "It would have been infinitely sexier had you said, 'I cut my finger.'"