It seems as though every single time I make myself a nice, nighttime snack of nachos, my sweet little Rose wakes up. And not only does she wake up, it takes her five times as long to settle back down and go to sleep. So while my nachos sit on the stove getting cold, I sit nursing her back to sleep. For what seems an eternity.
Tonight was no exception. I shredded some cheddar, topped the chips with it on a baking sheet, and no sooner had they come out of the broiler, I heard crying. It's like that every single time. Why, oh why, must she ruin my nachos every time? Perhaps she senses the satisfaction I get from making the nachos, and must wake up to keep me from my delicious snack. Perhaps she wishes to have some for herself. Perhaps it is all just a terrible coincidence. Whatever it is, I will no longer be making nachos after she goes to bed. It is far too risky an endeavor.