All three of us were knackered. We’d spent almost the entire day outside, at the park, in the garden and at Karrie and Andy’s (thanks guys for dinner!) so after a thorough scrub of my mucky pups in the bath, they went down no problem. Well, the Wee Man took exception to me trying to read from Conde Nast Traveller instead of Roald Dahl… But I sneaked out at 8, had one beer and went to bed.
KD was moaning. I had to intercept him before it turned into a cry and woke the Wee Man. I crept across the landing, gave him a bottle and risked a trip to the loo. Big mistake. Like a bat, his supersonic hearing picked up the floorboard creaking. He settled quickly but I was only in bed five minutes before he was up again. This time there was a bit of screaming, a bit of blinds-rattling and a lot of chucking the duvet. He finally settled and I started to creep out. He heard me and it started all over again. After he settled I gave it an extra five minutes of deep breathing – but he heard me again. I swear I hardly made a sound. An hour and a half after first getting up I finally made it back to bed.
Footsteps. I intercepted him at his door and he settled quickly. I crept out without disturbing him, thank God.
I was like a recovering alcoholic hovering at the door to Oddbins – he was in my room and I could just let him get in. I could stay in my warm bed and we could both get a few more hours of sleep. I was so tired. But no. I stayed strong. I took him back to bed. He patted the stool to show me where he expected me. I sat on that f***ing stool. I waited for the sleep. I crept out.
I’m wondering if the stool is the problem. Maybe, now that we’ve established he has to stay in bed, it’s time to put him in it and leave the room. I can’t find my Supernanny book so I can’t remember the official rules. I think I’ll try it tonight though.
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