This morning since Emma slept through the night (YEAH!!!) I was up at 5:30am, nursed, settled her down and pumped. Since Phillip was up getting ready for work we were in the kitchen chatting.
As the pumped hummed in the background he made sounds like the electric beats at a dance club. ksssk ksssk ksssk ksssk-that's what he hears in the motor of the pump.
Sometimes I hear wacko, wacko, wacko, wacko, over and over and over again.
What does your pump say to you?
And since I was up early and pumping he came to my rescue as my coffee got cold on the counter.
It may not be the most fun thing in the world but I guess it could be worse without a sense of humor.
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