My husband is out of town for a work-related conference. I am thus left with the boys: a 2-year-old who doesn’t know how to sleep and a 10 month old with a nasty-ass cough.
He called me yesterday, telling me how tired he was.
“Oh, we were partying until 2:30 in the morning. Then we had to wake up at six.”
“Was the party in your room?”
“Well, then you could have left and went to sleep. No sympathy from me. You want to know how my night was?”
“How bad was it?”
“Kees woke up at 11:30, Sacha woke up at 3:30, Kees woke up at 5:20, Sacha woke up at 6, then I slept in his bed until 8:00 when we all woke up.”
Then he told me he had to go because the taxi taking them all to the dinner theater was leaving.
Bite me. I feel so bad for you.