The Return of Pass the Puns, Please

I have a whole new appreciation for mommy bloggers. And to who I was ten years ago. Last night, my five month old nephew stayed the night so his mommy could eat, drink and be merry with her girlfriends. (And because I am a sucker for a bald-headed baby with cheeks so chubby you just want to chew them.)

However, I failed to take into account how many times a youngster of this age would like to eat in the middle of the night. (Those cheeks just didn't happen you know...) Nor did I factor in my age, or the fact that it has been six years since I last had to rise to feed a youngster.

And somehow, I managed to overlook the fact that those cheeks aren't nearly as adorable when they are contorted with rage because his sleepy aunt can't manage to heat up his midnight, four a.m. and 6:30 a.m. feeding quick enough. And my darling little devil boy nephew didn't even have the good grace to look embarrassed when I did manage to stuff the bottle in his screaming mouth after walking into a wall, bumping my big toe on the door frame and walking into the square edge of my coffee table. Conveniently located at knee level so as to ensure maximum amount of damage, pain and cursing in the middle of the night.

Never have I been so happy to see the tail lights of a car leaving my drive as I was this morning.

(Yes, we all know that when I see the headlights of same said car tomorrow, I will be back to my cheek chewing, gushing aunty ways. But that's tomorrow after I sleep in peace tonight, with only the soft snoring of Nixon, World's Greatest Doggy, to keep me company.)

Onto the business at hand. Please enjoy, and no complaints to the chef.

What did the grape say when it got stepped on?

Nothing - but it let out a little whine.