The expression "to sleep like a baby," was definitely not for you. That old gem just didn't apply. You would not sleep at all. For six months, you squirmed, you cried, you fidgeted and burbled, but you certainly didn't sleep.
I was going mad. I loved you so much. You were beautiful, but the last thing you wanted was sleep. All night and all day, you were awake. Sometimes happy, but mostly not. You'd cry until I held you, and when I did, you wouldn't stay still, or keep quiet. "Sleep like a baby", my foot. I tried everything. Nothing worked. I was losing it. I was going mad. That is until....
So simple looking back. If only I'd known at the time. Those first six months. Oh my god. Those first six months.
"What did you do?"
A spoon of absinthe in the milk.
"You put absinthe in my milk".
Your milk! Huh no. The absinthe went in my milk. After that little zombie, I slept like a baby every night.
Written for Trifecta Challenge week ninety eight at:
The prompt this week is the word zombie I and the context: