Kylie looked at the baby and pulled out another handful of hair. Was this why new mothers complained about losing hair after giving birth? She was honestly at her wits' end. He wasn't sleepy. He wasn't hungry. He'd burped 5 times – surely enough to bring up any wind. He had a clean nappy, no nappy rash. He wasn't hot, he wasn't cold. The baby screwed his face into an uglier grimace and turned up the scream volume another notch. The old lady in the flat next door banged on the wall, but Kylie could only hear the banging while the baby was taking a breath.
Justin wandered in, bleary-eyed and looking like death warmed up.
“What's wrong with him?” he asked.
“I HAVE NO BLOODY IDEA!!!” screamed Kylie, snapping the cords that tied her to a semblance of sanity.
Justin took a few steps back and stared at her from the relative safety of the hallway.
“Ummmm...” he attempted, then gave up and went back to bed.
The baby stopped screaming, stuck his thumb in his mouth, and went to sleep. Ruth stretched out on the floor next to the cot and slept too – for a whole half hour.
“There there dear, it'll get easier,” soothed Kylie's fairy godmother, Ruth, on the phone the next morning. “They all go through this love, you can survive it!”
Kylie sighed, hung up the phone, and wondered.
Justin brought her a cup of coffee. “What'd she say?” he asked.
“Oh, the usual crap,” she said “It'll get easier!” She kicked the fridge, then hopped around the kitchen squealing in pain.
“Hmmm... I think maybe we need a fairy godfather on the job, darling.” Justin pondered, “And I know just the fellow!”
“Ohhh, that's terrible, pet!” George said swishily a few minutes later. “It sounds like a nasty-wasty curse. I'll see what the word on the street is, darlings. Toodle-oo!”
“A curse?” Kylie asked the empty air. “To... what? Make the baby cry? Who'd do such a horrible thing? Why on earth would anyone put a hex on a baby?”
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