Baby Monitor

The cries from the baby monitor woke me up.

“‘s cryin’ again,” Frances mumbled into her pillow.

“I know, love. I’ll take care of it.”

She was already snoring.

I followed the cries downstairs, yawning all the way.  Punched in the keys and opened the door to his room.

He’d managed to crawl out of his cot. A strap must’ve come loose. He was red-faced, crying at me and babbling in whatever language he spoke.

“Calm down, mate,” I said. Not that he understood.

I tased him, strapped him back down, locked his door, and went back to bed.

— Matt Holland 30/11/2018

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