... call for desperate measures. And 2:45 am is decidedly a desperate time when the baby has us up every 1/2 hour to 1 1/2 hours and crying, crying anytime we put him in the crib. Finally I put on a jacket, grabbed my keys and the baby and said, we're going for a drive.
It's interesting to see what 24 hour drive thru's are actually open. McDonald's had lots of "24 hour DRIVE THRU signgs, but nobody was home. Not my first choice, but it was close and the fries aren't too dangerous. Starbucks wasn't likely to have the sandwiches I like and coffee was not what I needed. So Jack in the Box won out. By the way, the ice cream shakes are thick. Better hold out for a warm day on that one before you pop a blood vessel sucking so hard. Breakfast sandwich was pretty good, but not as good as Starbucks.
After all this searching, baby JackJack was still cooing, albeit quietly, in his seat while we cranked up KEXP friday night dance party. DaftPunk usually puts him right out but these were extenuating circumstances.
We finally hit the highway, and drove to Seattle. Might as well have a pretty drive while we are lulling our baby to sleep, right? And no, neither of us made the joke. One might have struck the other, or worse, turned up the electronic beat box louder.
An hour and half later, we were home. Baby transferred soundly asleep to crib and slept for at least another hour before waking us bemoaning his soul-deep loneliness and burning desire for our company.
C'est la vivre, eh? And through it all, I can still look at him, now smiling and discovering and boundless and love him. And you know, I didn't once imagine what he might taste like. A move up!
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