Papa Old Crashes

A week or so ago, Mama K came home from work to find the first floor of our apartment unexpectedly vacant. Upon calling out my name and getting no response, she walked up the stairs, peeked into the bedroom to witness this scene:

The previous night had been a late one, not even hitting the pillow until after 3:00am, then waking up the next morning around 7:00am when Young Old demanded some belly-fill. Horrible diaper rash, full-bore growth spurt, hourly feedings, explosive gas, and diaper change after diaper change (literally, I changed his diaper four times in a row...just when the clean one was on, BAM!, insta-shitty pants). This all added up to a very tired Daddy Old, and a very cranky Young Old who gave me the "Get your effing hands off of me" look every time I attempted to put him down for a nap. Finally, exhaustion stalled my engine...propping an alert and grumpy Boy next to me, I snuggled up and passed out, my hand gripping the youngun's waist so he couldn't sneak off and shoot birds with his pellet gun. I'm not sure how long we were there, but damn, it sure was heart-warming looking back at these pictures.