Night of the living dead

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Holding Jameson with his baby arms outstretched
Jameson asleep, but looking like a zombie, by .

I’m sure there’s something to like about babies. Between being covered in spit-up, the sleepless nights, and zero personal time I must have some crazy reason why I keep getting more of them.

Oh yeah: it’s the weight of their sleeping body on your chest; the first time they smile; their tiny hand wrapped around your finger; that look of contentment after a bottle.

It helps to remember those things on nights like these. It won’t be long before they’re a vague memory that I wish I could recall in greater detail.