Dad and I had our second afternoon together, and it was much better than the first. If, by much better, you mean the cries were louder and longer.
Mum went out to the shops and just like the other day, I waited patiently for her to leave before I went into overdrive.
Dad tried everything. Again. To no avail. The bottle of expressed milk was frozen, and just like old Murphy would predict, only finished thawing by the time mum got home. But mum tried to feed me when she got home, and I wasn't really hungry, so we'll never really know what made me blow my fuse. But it was quite spectacular.
Later on I snuggled up to dad in the loungeroom and we had a great time oohing and aaahing at the curtains. Praise the Lord for short attention spans.
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