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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