Sunday, 11 December 2011


Everyone knows that kids hate going to bed. That they'll think of every last possible excuse:

I need a wee wee / poo poo / drink / the light's not on enough / the light's too bright / I haven't got my covers on / I'm cold / Ive lost my noo noo/big bear/Richard bear...

So you go up and down like a bleedin' yo yo

No you do NOT need a wee wee you've only just had one

There's a glass of water by your bed

Right, if you don't settle down I'll shut the door

Right, THAT'S IT, if you don't settle down I'll shut the door AND the gate.

Until finally, all is quiet.

Only, when you go up to bed later,  he's gone back to bed alright, and he's fast asleep...

...having closed his own door and shut the gate himself.

Sunshine Duke 1
Mummy 0

Thursday, 1 December 2011

This is how my week is going

Exhibit A.

My new mug. Next to an ordinary size mug.

Exhibit B.
New mug filled with what we like to call around here "Mummy's Go-Go Juice" (aka Coffee)

The Reason

My son has decided, once again, that sleeping through the night is just not for him. And why would he? It's way more fun waking mummy and daddy up four times a night. And at 5 am, can you think of anything more fun than standing outside mummy and daddy's bedroom, with a jumper over your head, pretending to be Darth Vader? And when mummy stumbles out and demands to know what you're doing you say "I'm hiding." I don't know about you, but I can think of a million things I'd rather do at 5 in the morning than play hide and seek with a two year old.

But that's not the half of it. Not content with getting us out of bed by calling out for us, he, on the odd occasion, then has a night terror. Every witnessed one of these? They're bloody terrifying. There he is, screaming his head off, throwing himself around the bed, repeating mummy mummy mummy over and over, yet if you go anywhere near him, touch him, try to reason with him, the terror escalates a notch. So you're left placing pillows all around his bed in case he falls out, and standing very still and very quiet, waiting, praying for it to pass, and thinking that if this goes on any longer you might have to call an ambulance, or something.... After about thirty minutes, he falls asleep where he is (on the floor, last time), into a deep and unquiet sleep, while you remains petrified in the corner, having just aged about one thousand years.

Thank god for coffee.

And massive mugs.