So, yesterday morning, my mom and I had our typical check-in phone conversation.
It went a little something like this:
Me: I wanted your advice. I’m nervous. I woke up 2 nights in a row and found the baby un-swaddled, with her arms out. Her hands and arms felt cold.
Mom: OK.
Me: No, but seriously, she was sooooooo cold. It was only, like, two hours after we went to bed, but still.
Mom: Alright. No biggie.
Me: Really? I mean, her body was definitely warm, but her hands were, like, freezing.
Mom: OK. She’s fine.
Me: Are you sure?
Mom: Absolutely
Me: Are you positive? What kind of permanent damage could it have caused?
Mom: None. I promise.
Me: Mom, I’m serious. Her hands were so cold.
Mom: Some babies live in igloos, don’t they?
Me: Oh. Yeah. I guess you’re right. OK.
Mom: I think she’s fine.
Me: You think?
And this went on,
and on.
What are the chances that insanity can skip a generation?