Honestly, I know I’m not far enough along yet to really use this excuse, but I’ve already found that it works well:
“Sorry, the baby made me do it.”
Hungry at 3 AM? It’s not me; it’s the baby!
Feeling cranky? It’s not me, really, it’s not!
Restless in the bed, keeping Francisco awake? It’s the baby, the baby I say!
Not feeling like walking the dog in the morning, when it’s my turn? Mmm, the baby thinks you should walk the dog, Francisco.
I’ve already thought about how far I can ride this excuse, and I’m looking forward to angling for a subway seat and playing upon the sympathies of baby-friendly folk to get to the front of lines (especially at the post office, which I detest).
If you think I’m shameless, it’s not me.
The baby made me do it.