Dear Bubba,

Dear Bubba,

I’m sorry I dropped the clicker on your head yesterday.

You were milk drunk (more like milk passed out) sleeping on my boppy pillow on my lap. I was trying to put the clickers away so I could gently pick you up and place you into your crib.

Since I have right wrist tendinitis, I struggle to grip things sometimes (I dropped the scissors twice last week!), the clicker slipped out of my hand and bonked you right the face.

You woke up with the cutest little look on your face. It was kind-of like, “what the … heeeeeeeeey … that huuuuuuurt … I might start crying … nah, I guess I’m ok.”

In my defense, I got the tendinitis from holding YOU all the time, so this was really all your fault if you think about it.



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