Breakfast of champions

The Husband is a great dad. He's very hands on and involved with The Boy. He'd never changed a diaper before The Boy was born, and though he loved his niece and nephew, he had very little tolerance for their spit up. But since day one he's changed diapers, volunteered night shifts, and played in the floor with The Boy. It melts my heart to see this jock from high school sing Itsy Bitsy spider and point out dogs in board books. Watching him be a dad has made me fall in love all over again.

This morning The Boy woke up at 5:30. He's been pulling this stunt lately since he's cutting two molars. The Husband got up with him and I kept wallowing in the bed. When I got up I needed to be filled in on where to start helping, so I asked about his morning routine so far. This is the exchange that took place:

Me: has he had a diaper change?
Husband: no
Me: Did you give him Tylenol?
Husband: no
Me: Did you put miralax in this milk?
Husband: nope, forgot.
Me: what have y'all been doing?
Husband: watching zombies on tv.
Me: How bout his appetite meds?
Husband: I thought we weren't doing that.
Me: it's time to start it back. What'd he have for breakfast?
Husband: marshmallows.
Me: marshmallows?
Husband: yeah, out of the Lucky Charms.

Awesome. There's no judgement here, some mornings are just like that. And here's The Boy teething on, not eating, a bagel on the way to school. About a minute and a half after I took this picture, he fell asleep in an apparent early-morning-zombie-marshmallow-rave fueled stupor.