"Sensitive New-Age Guy" (1/1)
by Marie-Claude Danis

EMAIL: mc@verticalcrawl.com
SITE: http://verticalcrawl.com/westwing
FEEDBACK: Would be delightful.
ARCHIVE: Sure, just ask.
PAIRING: Josh/I'm not telling.
RATING: G

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I was doing good. I was doing great, in fact. And although I was decidedly deep into slumber, a part of my brain acknowledged and appreciated the fact that I was merrily engaging in - get this - my SECOND hour of continuous, undisturbed sleep. Aw yeah - this train was bound for glory.

But then came, predictably enough, the elbow in the kidneys. Because two hours of peaceful rest was really too much to ask. I grunted and flipped onto my back. A few minutes went by and for a moment there I thought I'd outwitted my bride's not-so-subtle hints. But that theory was blown to hell when a heel dug sharply into my shin. Ow. I shifted, definitely awake now - and slightly cranky.

"Whaaaaat!" I whined, if only to hear myself.

"He's crying!"

My eyes blinked open and I peered suspiciously at my wife. Her pretty face was nestled in the pillow next to me, and her eyes were closed. I poked at her shoulder and they cracked open, exhausted.

"How do you do that?" I inquired.

"Do what?"

"How do you know he's crying?"

She was about to answer, but her hand hovered hesitantly near her face, then settled back down on the pillow.

"What!" I nudged again.

She smirked and signed something which in the dark looked like 'I'm not telling', then turned away from me and flopped back into her plush pillow - which is, by the way, the most effective signal for the perennial "it's YOUR turn" cop-out in this household.

Fine.

I threw both legs over the edge of the bed and hoisted myself up with all the energy of a wrung out sponge. I managed to drag myself across the room and padded groggily down the hall to the next door. My son was, indeed, crying his little heart out. I chanced a peek into his crib.

"Hey there."

Wail.

"You know Julian, sleep really IS a good thing. Trust me when I say you'd like it if you gave it a real try."

Wail.

"Would I lie to you?"

Wail. Geez, he was going to hurt himself crying that hard.

"Jules. Babe. You're gonna pull something." I picked him up, settled him in his usual spot between my neck and my sternum, and together we paced the room in soothing strides. "Seriously. Even your mother can hear you."




END