I come out and red has Wyatt in one arm. In his other hand he has two types of pacifiers hooked over his fingers like cheep crackerjack rings and he's trying to find a Sweeny Todd song, My Friends, because that's normally our secret weapon for calming Wyatt down.
I calmly walk in, pick Wyatt up and sit on the couch. In a few minutes he's calmed down. In less than five he's fallen asleep on my chest. Mean while I'm grinning cheekily at Red.
"There's times i hate you, Hun"
There's times I'd probably hate me too. Especially since it feels like this role is normally reversed. I had just continued grinning.
Today Wyatt is four weeks old.