Snapped.

"I'll get up with the baby."
The Great Lie.
I didn't feel so hot last night, so Giovanni volunteered to get up with Camilla.
I quickly agreed before he could change his mind.
Fast-forward to 2:31. The first wake-up. I was awake at the first grunt. I could tell by the way she was whining that she was winding up for a good fit, and that this wasn't a playtime wake-up, but a hungry wake-up. I lay there quietly and waited for Giovanni to wake up. The snoring only seemed to get louder. After a minute or so, I gently patted him. "Giovanni", I whispered. Nothing. I tapped him a little harder. Still nothing. I went to get Camilla, who by now was screaming. I started shaking him. He muttered, but didn't wake up.
I grabbed a pillow and whacked him in the head. Hard. Hell hath no fury like a sleep-deprived new mother. He yelped like a puppy. Camilla was quiet now, thoroughly enjoying the show. He jumped into a sitting position and stared at me with glassy eyes. I knew all too well what this meant. He was still asleep. "I'll help you!", he squawked. "Just let me finish ordering flatbread! Jeez, woman."
Another hit with the pillow and he just stared at me, then flopped back down to the bed, sound asleep.
I snapped.
I grabbed a bottle and squeezed the nipple until a jetstream of milk went all over his face. I continued the methodical squirting at random points all over his face and head until he woke up. He stared at me, very confused, milk dripping down his face.
"That's really gross."
I gave him a wicked grin.
"It's breastmilk."

On a lighter note, happy eight week birthday to Camilla! She's getting so big and we love her more every day.