2004-07-05, 2:26 p.m.

These are the kind of exchanges that two people - who love each other very much - end up having at 3am when a small and extremely unhappy infant is involoved.

The nights when Leon wakes up hungry and wet are not our best. He is starving, and I am sleepy and trying to get him undressed, cleaned up, changed and re-dressed while he is kicking his legs like an olympic swimmer and wailing in his furious infant frustration. Normally, as anyone who has met Leon knows, he is a charming and happy baby, who loves to be changed and laughs when you put a shirt on over his head. But in the middle of the night, when he's really still 75% asleep and all he wants is to be fed, the willfull, furious demon child, made up of all the most stuborn parts of both me and Christopher, takes over. It's like the Incredible Hulk and Bruce Banner, only pink instead of green.

So last night was a wet and hungry night, and after I finally got a new diaper on Leon (very hard when his legs won't stop), Christopher and I then spent 5 minutes trying to get his flailing little balled up fists into his sleeper, which of course only added to his anger and frustration. Finally dressed, I managed to get him back into bed, on my side - the inside, which means I have to climb over Christopher without stepping on his legs, which is tricky while half asleep and holding a squirming and yelling baby - and was trying to get into nursing position (on my back, with my right arm on the pillows against the wall) when Leon's hat fell off. At this point Christopher, unable to see what was taking me so long, and distressed by the still inceasing wailing, said to me, "Are you going to feed the boy, or what?", to which I responded through slightly clenched teeth, "No. I like to make my baby scream in hunger as much as possible".

Christopher was smart, and chose not to say anything else. and luckily I was finally able to get Leon latched on, and he began nursing as though his tiny little life depended on it, which I suppose it really did.