No shit, peoples. As I type, there is a bat confined to our computer room. He woke us up with his batty chattering about 4 a.m. this morning. The cats, especially Lucy, were thrilled that we had brought in a real live toy for them to play with. We are pretty sure at some point in the night that the bat was flying about in Little A's room. Hopefully, animal control will be able to come out today and extract the bat with little incident and minimal breakage. I am thankful that the bat wound up in the computer room and not our bedroom.
What concerns me is how the little fellow got into our house in the first place. Are there more to come. Shudder. I hope not.
This being our second bat-related incident (A colony took nest in theattic of our old house.) I am now convinced that I must have vampire blood in me or something. The bats seem to be attracted to me. Or Adrian. Or both of us.
This weekend Alastair had his first fever; at its highest, it was 102. It was pretty terrifying. The ordeal seemed to bother mom and dad more than Alastair. He was perfectly content, aside from a little lethargy. The dreaded rectal temperature-taking didn't phase him either. He was just pleased as punch to be nekkid. Luckily, the fever only lasted overnight and he was back to his chipper little self Saturday afternoon.
As a result of the fever, Adrian and I were forced to cross a new milestone-sleep without swaddle. The thought of wrapping up an already overwarm baby seemed ill-advised. So we crossed our fingers, zipped him up in his sleep sack, and put him to bed. He slept like a log. That was Friday night and we've been forging ahead with no swaddles. So far, so good. But for two mornings in a row there've been big old diaper disastrophes. Ah well, trade one thing for another, I guess.
Man, I hope that bat is gone by the time I get home.