"Quick, get the broccoli."
These are words I didn't expect to hear at 2 in the morning. Not even from my broccoli-obsessed husband. Yet, here they were hanging in the air, expecting a response of some sort.
I figured I had a few options, as I groggily attended to our fourth night-waking event.
A) Scream hysterically at him. "Broccoli? At 2 in the morning? Are you mad?"
B) Roll over and pretend I didn't hear him or the shrieking babe.
C) Dutifully go produce some broccoli for my husband and child.
I attempted all three...the first two to stave off the trek downstairs. But, it eventually became evident that Dave's request for frozen broccoli at now 2:45 a.m. wasn't going away. It seemed as if he believed that this would lessen Spence's teething pain.
The frozen broccoli materialized somehow and was quickly thrown under the bed, where I think it still lives.
Let it be known that broccoli will not be the Windex of this family--it is not a cure all.