Sleepy...

So once again we are fighting visitors in the night – a couple of hotel visits in family rooms over the Easter holidays don’t help.  My boy’s love us all being together, the eldest especially would stick to my side like glue if he could.

 I know how he feels I love him, I adore being with him I even miss him if he’s at his grandparents or sometimes even when he’s just at school and yet I need time without him, especially at night, our king size bed just isn’t big enough for three (or four as has become quite common) plus the toys he deems it necessary to bring along (as if it isn’t bad enough sharing with him and don’t think it’s just nice soft cuddly bears that come in - this week it’s been spiderman, space ships and particularly spiky transformers!)

I’m sure you know what I mean, kid’s seem to sleep in such comfort sideways  across the bed,  boiling hot, legs, elbows, feet in the most awkward position for the poor parents teetering on the edge of mattress.

I have a friend whose beautiful and non-nocturnal daughter stayed in a cot till she was three calm and peaceful – both mine learnt how to dangerously climb out by a year old., suffering carpet burns to the forehead on the first few attempts which just involved general ‘launching’ and see what happens!

When I tried to explain to him that it’s just too uncomfortable and that Mummy and Daddy need space, and that he had a perfectly comfortable bed he suggested we move his bed into our room and explained that he misses me in the night......

It got a bit easier when he went back to school, nothing seems to tire a four year old out more than the academic pressures of foundation stage especially with the addition of a medicinal drowsy piraton at bed time.

Instead of midnight to two the little creeping has got later and later so we’re now awake between four and six. It’s funny how six o’clock becomes a lie in isn’t it?!

Very early on Thursday morning, my partner gets up yawns, stretches and makes his way to the bathroom.

Gentle thumps down the corridor and a little warm toasty pie sneaks into bed.

‘Urgh!’ he cries still sleepy and with a sorrowful tone.

‘He’s pooed!’  he whines before realising the baby is not here, not in the bed and at least one room away.

Eyes still shut he moans,’ What’s that smell?’

‘Mummy, mummy, What’s that smell?’ he is crying now at this offensive smell polluting his little nostrils.

‘I don’t know darling, I can’t smell anything’ I murmur.

‘What is it? What is it? It smells like COWS!’

‘Shh, shh, shh!’ I sleepily whisper, ‘Go back to sleep!’

The smell of course is just his father’s side of the bed........

If that doesn’t put him off nothing ever will!