If I Have To Put My Drink Down One More Time! (Page 5)




Halloween is a festive time in the NICU.  It is standard practice for a contingent of grandmotherly volunteers to
pour in and dress the babies up in carefully crafted costumes they spent months pouring their hearts and souls into making by hand.  In order for your baby to be outfitted, you must first give permission for him to be adorned in the holiday garb because NICU Law, Section Two, Page Four clearly states it is against the rules for at least one visiting family not to complain each year that Halloween is a Satan-worshipping holiday that is bound to destine their preemie for a life of soul-scorching doom.


Satan-worshipping preemie

DANG DALMATIONS!  I AM SICK AND TIRED OF THEM JUST PRANCING INTO UNSUSPECTING PEOPLE’S LIVES, LICKING THEIR ANKLES WITH RECKLESS ABANDON AND SOAKING THEM WITH SENSELESS DROOL!  DALMATIONS BE GONE!

If you think Halloween’s bad, just hope you aren’t around to witness Arbor Day.  Hell hath no fury like a premature tree-hugger scorned!

Crusher was nine-days-old in this picture and had just surpassed the 4 lb. mark.  This is a significant milestone for all families as they watch in awe as their child outgrows the deli weight class (“Hi, I’d like 3 lbs, 10 oz. of pastrami, please.”).

There was some preliminary discussion at this juncture to enlist Crusher as a defensive tackle on the NICU football team, but they have a strict, “No feeding tubes on the field” policy.  Right, like that rule wasn’t just arbitrarily imposed so Crusher wouldn’t kick the ass of every single bottle/breastfeeder in the joint. 

I went out that day and bought Crusher a “Nipples are for Sissies” t-shirt.  Don't mess with Satan's spawn.

 

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