"I'm Hosed!"

That was the thought that ran through my mind around 3AM a few days ago.

You see what had happened was this. I was sleeping, sleeping hard. And then I heard the faintest hint of a baby crying. "Whehnhhh..."
I popped awake, and "My baby is crying!" went through my mind.
"Whehnhhh..."
"I must help my baby!" I may even have sat up in bed.
...
"Wait a second, I don't have a baby that can cry yet!?!"
"Whehnhhh..."
"Is that the cat? ... No, it doesn't sound like him."
"Whehnhhh..."
"Is it something outside?"
"Whehnhhh..."
"No, it's definitely coming from inside. ...in fact.
"Whehnhhh..."
"You've got to be kidding me! It's Jessica's nose whistling. I can't believe I just woke up because of a nose whistle."
"Whehnhhh..."
"I'm hosed."

That stereotypical scene where the baby cries, Mommy tells Daddy it's his turn, Daddy grunts and keeps sleeping, and Mommy has no choice but to get up and take care of her wailing infant, that will not be happening in our house. Mommy's nose whistle woke Daddy up and sent him into a paternally charged adrenaline rush, ready to satisfy the needs of his yet-to-be-born son.
I felt, selfishly, a bit robbed of the ability to sleep through the needs of my child which American entertainment and culture had promised me.

All hope of fulfilling the role of uncaring brute is not lost, though. Because a couple of nights ago, I totally responded unsympathetically (because I wasn't really awake) when informed I was snoring, slept through Jessica grumpily banging around the kitchen and chasing down a roach in the living room, then eventually let her take her pillows and go to the mother-in-law bed (a twin) in the nursery--I was awake enough for that last part so that I remember it happened.

I just hope that when "my turn" actually comes that it comes with enough Holy Ghost fire to have me respond more like the first scenario and less like the second.