My Daughter the Comedian

Try to picture this as if it were a scene from a movie:

4:30 this morning. It's daddy's night to handle feedings, and we're a good three or four ounces in (and my nipples are killing me...) She hasn't burped in about two ounces, so, to avoid a spit up situation, I try to burp her. I try the over-the-shoulder maneuver, the seated-on-lap position, even the patented Newmommy trick (which I'll get into in a future post). Ten minutes go by...nothing.

"OK," says Newdaddy, "You don't want to burp...I'll give you a little bit more, but I don't want to play the spit up game!"

The nipple barely touched her lips before we were both covered in spit up.

So, I take her to the changing table, clean her up and change her. When it's all over, she pauses, looks at me, and lets out this enormous burp. Then gives me a knowing smile.

I get the joke. Very funny.

P.S. If I didn't know any better, I'd also think that she's flipped me the bird a few times. She must just be getting used to her hands....'cause she's not supposed to want to flip me off for another six or seven years.