The light is barely starting to stream into the window when I’m awakened by something so fantastically painful, I stop dreaming about chasing the Mad Hatter on a unicycle. In my underwear.
The baby has thrown her sippy cup in my face with unbelievable force; I have to look over at Carl to make sure he’s not the real perpetrator. He’s snoring, so he’s off the hook.
A laughter bellows from the baby in what can only be described as maniacal. She grins at me and attempts to throw her sippy cup a second time. This time I deflect it and the cup hits Carl in the head. He groans and gets up, taking his pillow with him.
“Where are you going?” I ask, afraid I’ll be left alone with this monster.
“Sleeping somewhere else. I can’t believe you’re up right now,” he grumbles as he leaves the room.
“Oh, like I chose to wake up this early,” I yell after him, but he’s already walked into another room and slammed the door shut.
The baby looks up at me with a smirk. She has one my shoes in her hand – she’s getting ready to throw it.
What the fuck kind of Saturday is this?