In my short time as a father, one of the many roles I’ve assumed is that of the baby transporter. I mostly move Baby V between the crib and Mrs. JoseMonkey (also known as “The Milk Truck”) in between feedings. During the frequent baby hand-offs, I try to help my wife out by turning the baby to face the correct side, depending on which breast she intends to nurse from. Seems easy enough, right?
Well, in my baby-addled brain, simple concepts like “left boob” and “right boob” are suddenly very confusing. Especially at 4am. The other night, I actually asked my wife not to say “left” or “right” and simply point at her boobs. At the time, this seemed like an eminently reasonable way to introduce efficiency into this recurring task.
In retrospect, I think I might be an idiot.