To my dear husband

Honey,

You were right.  I will probably never write these words again, but I though you would appreciate them.

Sacha's decision to boycott all things nap-related has forced me to endure the crankiest of crankmeisters throughout the day.  He got the best of me, that little turd. He knew that I would get tired of his screaming and eventually give up and let him crank his little butt around the house while I shuddered in misery.  You, for some bizarre reason, are able to withhold the swearing and exaggerated sighs, and just hold him while he throws his temper tantrum, and he eventually calms himself and floats blissfully into slumber whenever you put him down for naps.

Calm down, you said. You are shushing as loud as the pressure washer outside!  No wonder he doesn't sleep!  You need to relax so that he can relax!

Yeah, well fuck you, I thought.  Go back to your pill-counting job and leave the parenting to me, you poopy-faced stinky butthead.

I see now that I was wrong, and you were right.  I stayed calm, let him throw his hissy fit, and he fell asleep in my arms within 5 minutes.  Maybe 10.  Either way, he is asleep and I am online now, all thanks to your words of wisdom.

Now, to celebrate the occasion of you being right (and therefore, me being wrong), I will proceed to go to the liquor store and drink myself silly so I never remember writing this letter.

Love,

Me