A daddy blog.

28 October 2008

The Nightly Ritual

Dad: "Take the bottle."

Bug: "Mmmm ... milk."

"Good girl."

[Pushes bottle from mouth] "Wuzzat?"

"That's mom shifting in her seat. Focus on the nipple."

"Is she okay?"

"She's okay. Drink your milk."

"My what?"

[Shoves bottle] "Suck."

[Sucking] "Mmmm ... wuzzat."


"But whatizzat?"

"It's a flyer for an event no one here is attending."

"That's a party. And it's being held by friends of mom's."


"The theme is a wake for Astroland. You're obsessed with the place."

"Was. Drink."


"Was. It's gone now. Drink."

"But the party's on Friday night. And I have to be in bed by 8:30 on Friday."

"Indeed. One more ounce and then we'll burp."

"Maybe we could go. I could stay up late and you could leave me in the ball put while you go and enjoy free beer."

[Lays baby on shoulder facing flyer, slaps baby's back rhythmically] "Burp."

"Say, isn't this taking place at that new bar you wanted to see? The one from the folks who own your favorite bar in the nieghborhood?"

"Drink again."

"What is Live Burlesque?"


"'Mother do ya think they'll drop the bomb ...'"


"You let out a big sigh. It reminded me of the beginning of the song."

[Carries baby the way a sabretooth tiger carriers Fred Flintstone out the front door of his own house, depositing her in the crib] "Goodnight."

[Burps.] "Later."