I was washing bottles and pump parts this morning (UGH–and constant, too) and Husband was sitting with Baby who was on her little play-gym. He was trying to read Bukowski with one hand while playing with baby with the other hand, and of course keeping his eyes on his book.
When I got back into the nursery room, he noted, “You really don’t get to read normally, do you? It’s just impossible.” He finally understands! Everything is baby. I used to read a novel a week and now I can’t even finish a magazine.
