The Babybomb

Like most parents, my concept of privacy has been laid to rest alongside the hope of a full night of sleep and the ability to sit through an uninterrupted meal.  A closed door does not mean what it used to. No one in my house has capitalized on my reduced expectation of privacy quite as much as my husband. His favorite tool of exploitation is, what we have termed, "The Babybomb."

Here is how The Babybomb works:

Essentially, he will choose moments when I am at my most vulnerable. Whether it be in the shower, during a bubble bath, or on the toilet, no moment is too sacred. There I will be, minding my own business, when all of a sudden, silently, out of the corner of my eye, this will slowly appear:

(I know what you are thinking and no, I do not carry a camera into the bathroom with me. These photos are a reenactment meant to convey exactly how hilarious this moment was).

To be absolutely honest, I do not mind sacrificing my moments of privacy for my husband's astounding moments of comedic genius and that adorable, little face.

She is like a ninja. You never know when she will show up.

An adaption of The Babybomb is The Brookiebomb -- equally hilarious.