A happy little story

Once upon a time, there was a precious substance. This substance was known as "free time". There wasn't much of it, especially not around here. Then one day, we had Wesley. He was a good baby. Neigh, a GREAT baby. He was sweet and smiley and happy. But there was one drawback. He didn't sleep during the day. Ever. He was awake 14 hours a day pretty much every day. He slept all night, and that was nice. But at night, I needed to sleep, too. He also liked to be held. A lot. And since he was sweet and smiley and happy...I held him. A lot. This made doing anything else challenging. Free time was nowhere to be found.

Days went by, and then weeks. Wesley grew...

And grew...

And grew some more!

And he was cute. And sweet and smiley and happy. But he still didn't sleep much.

The house grew filthier and filthier, and I despaired. I forgot important things, like sending the kindergarten snack and combing my hair. I looked frazzled. More than usual, even.

And then one day, Wesley started crawling. And then he was sweet and smiley and happy...and MOBILE. The house got cleaned, because it had to be. (Well, and because I threatened the rest of the family within an inch of their lives and forced them to help.) And Wesley was slightly more willing to be on the floor and not be held all the time. And he even occasionally took a nap. Tiny little bits of free time started appearing here and there. I combed my hair and remembered to send the kindergarten snack. And there was much rejoicing.

The end.