“Hey, let’s look at some of those pictures you took today,” my husband said after we put Bubbers down for the night.
“Okay!” I agreed, always willing to look at pictures. Especially ones of Bubbers.
We went to the computer and started going through them, exclamations of “He’s so cute!” and “Oh, Little Man, we love you!” pouring from us continuously.
Suddenly, Charming said, “Hey, go back to that last one.”
“You liked it? I liked it, too, he’s so cute,” I gushed as I clicked on it again.
“Uh, Love, take a closer look.”
I leaned towards the screen and squinted.
“Aaaaahhh!!!!” I began screeching, “My baby! My baby! Somebody save my baby!!”
Charming started laughing his head off.
“You didn’t see that when you were taking the picture?!?”
I couldn’t hear him because I was running wildly through the house in terror and fear, trying to save my baby.
If I had a spare $20 lying around the house, I’d give it to the first person who can see the source of my terror.
(Actually, that’s a lie. If I had a spare $20 lying around the house, I wouldn’t give it away. I would buy a remote for my camera. Sorry).