Abuser

It rained on my way home tonight. Without an umbrella in the car, I was forced to race to my front door barefoot (my dressy shoes would've caused an injury) with my huge diaper bag over one shoulder and a sleeping Rain over the other. I quickly said hello to Tim on my way in (by that I mean I hissed, "It's cold in here!"), and put Rain gently into the crib. I took off her shoes, and she fell back to sleep.

I walked out of the room, and finally go to say a proper hello to Tim, who I hadn't seen all day. A few minutes later, I went to the bathroom. While I was there, I could hear Rain crying. She must've woken up in the dark room and wondered where she was. I heard Tim go into the bedroom to get her. She continued to cry for a bit then stopped. When I stepped out of the bathroom again, Rain was crying.

Tim said, "You want to hear about what kind of abuser she is?"

Sure, I'm always up for that.

"Well," he said, "she started crying, so I went to get her. I tried to walk her around, but she kept crying. So, I took her out to the living room, and when she saw you weren't here, she stopped crying. She started to fall asleep, and then she heard you flush the toilet. Her head shot up, and her face looked like, 'Ha! She's here!'"

So, by the time I opened the door, the waterworks were on. Bad baby! Bad!