You can’t tell from this picture, but Chris is actually in big trouble at my house right now.
Oh, sure. He looks all innocent. He looks all “check-me-out-holding-an-adorable-baby.” He looks all masculine and manly with these big forearms and that cute cowlick in his hair.
Sure, there’s nothing sexier in the world than a good looking man with a baby. But I cannot be distracted. He’s in big trouble.
And don’t think those silly fish faces and those fat, little baby giggles are going to distract me from the fact that it seems to be physically impossible for Chris to put his dirty clothes into the hamper, instead of on the floor right next to the hamper.
Don’t think I’m going to be fooled by the airplane game, either. I know that trick. You think a giggling baby and a glimpse at your abs are going to make me turn away from the dishes in the kitchen sink? Or the leaves in the front yard that need to be raked?
No, sir. I’m on to you, Chris. I see your sneaky ways. Using that innocent little Bean to make me turn into one big pile of mush. As if you have never looked so good as when you’re toting around our baby?
Nevermind. I forgot what I was saying.
Come on. Let’s go have another twelve babies.