Literally overnight, his schedule changed. He's now much hungrier and sleeping less. Taking in thicker milk in such larger quantities would suggest he'd take longer to sleep it off. Nope. Also his diaper action has shifted dramatically. Your Sister wonders if a medicine recommended to her is also hitting him. That might explain his digestion problems and greater unhappiness. He might actually be a crankypants.
We called the same state trooper who set up our car-seat boots to come back for a second look. We didn't like how The Deputy's head lolled forward so much. The officer apologized for setting it wrong, but he was working without a baby to check the setting. He had it fixed in no time. The Deputy now lies flatter in the seat.
Your Sis is beat. She doesn't want to use the bottled milk because she fears she won't make enough to replace it. That means she's doing all the feeding and getting the least sleep of all three of us. I do what I can to help. I rub shoulders. I make meals. I may have trained the boy to take a pacifier to tide him over until he's genuinely hungry.
The families want to come by Saturday, and we still don't think we can host a 10-person party. Not tomorrow. We're reduced to simple words between each other. We can't be witty. And we can't chase nieces. We'll try to make a cake for everyone, but I'd like to send them all out for a meal.
We just got a call from a teacher who's going to bring a meal tonight. That will be our first charity dinner. She'll also be the first co-worker to see the boy.
Picture of the Day
This is my stop.