Grandparents, and Why They Ain't So Grand

Greetings from Pittsburgh, where my mother and father are trying to kill me.

Sam has finally gotten to the age where spoiling is an option, and his maternal grandparents are doing a dance of joy. Last night I went out to dinner for my best friend's birthday, and when I got home at 8:30, my dad was in his room playing with him. He kept the lights out so maybe I wouldn't notice. Gee, dad's not in the living room, his bedroom, or my bedroom. I wonder where he could be? His rationale? 'He wasn't crying, he was just talking to himself in bed, so I thought he could talk to me!'

Then this morning, Sam was abruptly awoken when my parents got up for work. The instant my mother heard the tiniest peep from him, she ran in and started unzipping his tent. (Side note: we like to call it his baby cage, but that's because we're mean, awful parents.) It was 6:15 am, and he was now wide-a-freaking-wake. In a huff, I told grand ma ma that he was her problem now, I handed her a diaper, told her what to feed him for breakfast and went back to bed. I peacefully fell asleep dreaming of how difficult it would be for her to try and get ready for work while she also had to take care of Sammy.

Once everyone gets home from work this afternoon, they are getting a major talking to! I figure it'll be good practice for once Sam et al get older!