(no subject)
So two nights ago, I was relaxing in the bathtub, reading a book, drinking a beer (it's good for milk production!), and my husband came upstairs with the baby. The normal routine is this: I hang out in the tub for half an hour or so, then he brings her upstairs, undresses her, and gives her to me to bathe, and then we all go to bed.
I was engrossed in my book (N.T. Wright's new book Surprised by Hope) when he came upstairs. I was sort of ignoring him while he undressed the baby, trying to finish the chapter before I had to put the book down.
"Sweetheart..." he said. His voice had this particular edge to it that usually means he's either puzzled or annoyed.
"Uh-huh?" I said, still sort of ignoring him.
"Her diaper is on backwards."
"Okay," I said. "That's funny! But you've got to be totally Gaslight-ing me here. You can't put a diaper on backwards. You'd notice!"
He picked up the baby and brought her to me in the bathroom. Sure enough, her diaper was on backwards. I had somehow managed to put her diaper on backwards.
Either that or my husband is beginning to do little things to make me believe I've gone mad.
Backwards.
I was engrossed in my book (N.T. Wright's new book Surprised by Hope) when he came upstairs. I was sort of ignoring him while he undressed the baby, trying to finish the chapter before I had to put the book down.
"Sweetheart..." he said. His voice had this particular edge to it that usually means he's either puzzled or annoyed.
"Uh-huh?" I said, still sort of ignoring him.
"Her diaper is on backwards."
"Okay," I said. "That's funny! But you've got to be totally Gaslight-ing me here. You can't put a diaper on backwards. You'd notice!"
He picked up the baby and brought her to me in the bathroom. Sure enough, her diaper was on backwards. I had somehow managed to put her diaper on backwards.
Either that or my husband is beginning to do little things to make me believe I've gone mad.
Backwards.