Baby boy laughed for the first time last week. Not only was it the sweetest sound I’ve ever heard, it got me through the day…apparently he learned to scream/squeal over the five days I was absent from his life (because we all know I would’ve squashed that from the start).
I know what you are thinking, baby squeals are adorable, it’s so sweet. Except it isn’t, it’s worse than the screaming banshee cry and about three times as loud. And it’s not like you can tell it to stop…I mean it’s a baby…it doesn’t really get the whole “no” concept.
But every time I’m ready to throw in the towel, officially give them my recognition (usually after a horrible day that results with both the baby and I in tears) he changes. He makes a fart noise, he laughs, he gives me the cutest smile you could ever imagine.
And that’s why I stay. It’s certainly not the pay, or even half of my day. It’s for those few little moments that he sprinkles in just to make me realize why it’s all worth it.