ERROL PARKER | Editor-at-large | Contact
A Betoota Heights father is facing one of the great existential dilemmas of modern parenthood. The distinction between his baby’s cries and the unmistakable squawk of a local crow.
Clint Matthews, 34, was in the middle of what he describes as a rare moment of silence while his newborn, Isla, had finally gone down for a nap. However, just as Clint began to sink into the couch, a sound rang through the suburban air that left him frozen.
“Fuck,” Clint whispered, half to himself, half to the vast, empty space around him, as he tried to detect the origin of the noise.
“Was that a fucking crow?”
He sat upright, listening to the oversized wall clock tick and the fridge hum.
Despite straining his ears for further clues, Clint ultimately remained seated.
“You can’t rush into these things,” he told our reporter later on.
“I’ve made the mistake before. You walk into the nursery, and it’s just silence. Then they wake up to the creaking door or the beam of light that perfectly lines up with their eyes. You just need to wait.”
“But we’re supposed to be sleep training so, uh, does that mean I just leave her to cry or? I dunno.”
More to come.
