Only two days old, and already I'm pulling the ol' bait-and-switch on the parents. By day I'm an angelic child, sleeping peacefully for four hours in a row, eating eagerly and politely, and blinking adorably when cameras are around. OK, so I spit up once in a while, but that's cute, right?
Then night falls, and I show my true colors. I kicked off last night with a bang, giving Mom a good-sized spitup 5 minutes after Dad left so she could have the fun of hobbling to the changing table and replacing all four layers of my outfit.
I followed with a lusty bout of crying that attracted a passing pediatric nurse, who took off one layer of my clothing on the theory that I was too hot. Mom's bemusement, given that every other pediatric nurse had been telling her to keep me bundled up because I was cold, only added to the moment.
As a final touch, I demanded food every 30 minutes until 4 AM. Now I think I'll catch an hour or two of sleep: the nurse visits start up at 7:00, and I need to recharge my halo.
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