Violet
The next several weeks passed surprisingly fast.
Life with a newborn had a way of making days blur together.
Feed Thane.
Change Thane.
Wash bottles.
Do laundry.
Try to shower.
Feed Thane again because apparently my son had inherited his father's appetite along with his size.
By the time Thane was almost two months old, he was already wearing clothes meant for babies several months older.
“Your fault.”
Doom looked down at our son stretched across his chest.
“How the f**k is that my fault?”
I pointed at him.
“Look at you.”
Doom looked down at himself.
“What's wrong with me?”
“You're enormous.”
A grin appeared.
“Never heard you complain.”
I threw a burp cloth at him.
“Not what I meant.”
“Sure as f**k sounded like it.”
Thane startled when Doom laughed.
“Watch you
