So I gave my baby formula last night.
[time allowance for sighing, disapproving head-shakes, and gnashing of teeth]
It was bedtime and I was trying to feed him because he was hungry, and yet all he did was try to eat and then pull away and let out a banshee scream that could wake the dead. After a while I convinced myself that I was all dried up and my poor boy was starving. My breasts felt like deflated water balloons and I assumed I had simply run out.
Nothing could console this kid. No amount of bouncing, singing, rocking, or vacuuming came close to pacifying him. You may be wondering–why didn’t you just try letting him cry himself to sleep? Yeah, I tried that. And guess what? He got himself so worked up that he rolled himself over. My barely two month old is apparently ready for the Baby Olympics.
After conveying this to Baby Daddy, he promptly went downstairs to find the free formula that came in the mail and made up a bottle for his malnourished child. When he tried to feed it to him, however, Waylon was very nonchalant. He took a few polite sips, let the rest dribble down his chin, and immediately fell asleep.