The month after Michael and I became parents we were in a perpetual state of delirium. I remember, night after night, waking up and thinking that I’d lost the baby. I even remember looking in the crib, seeing the baby, and thinking to myself, “but where is the rest of him?”
One night, in a fitful state between sleep and restlessness, I was somehow convinced that Michael was falling off the bed, and that any such fall would lead to certain doom.
The first second into this, I was lying still in a semi-petrified, semi-flaccid state.
The next, I was trying to escape a blanket as tenacious as the chords of death so that I could save my husband.
Finally I escaped the blanket death trap in time to reach over Michael and roll him towards me, preventing him from his inevitable fall off the bed and onto the carpet of doom.
Michael, however, mistook my heroic efforts as an invitation to cuddle.
Somehow, he missed the gravity of the situation.
Michael, however, remained unconvinced of the dangers of carpet. So he coaxed me to lie down and we went back to sleep.
*Special thanks to Hyperbole and a Half, MS Paint Adventures, and the wonderful world of rage comics for formatting examples and inspiration*