parent FAIL

Here's the scene: the husband and I change Thatcher's diaper every night before we go to bed because otherwise he will not make it through the night. (And no, he does not wake up, but that is a separate and irrelevant post.) Thatcher also sleeps to lullabies playing on my iPod Nano, which we usually turn off before going to bed. I have one playlist, aptly named "Lullabies" and another one named "Workout music," which is perhaps not so aptly named since I haven't worked out in - well, let's not go there. Usually the lullabies just loop.

So tonight the husband goes in to change Thatcher's diaper and is like "Ash, come here! You have to come here!" I am blogging, eating coffee ice cream, watching The Little Couple and relaxing, so I am thinking to myself that our child better be playing the violin and painting a Monet in his sleep if I am going to move from the couch. But not one to miss my first born's finest moments, I reluctantly get up.

I walk quietly across the house, round the hallway corner and softly open the door to Thatcher's dark room.

He is rocking out to Promiscuous by Nelly Furtado.

And to think I am so careful about what we play in the car.