Sunday, 26 July 2015

And It Goes Like This

Shit happens. Over and over again.  In our house the four year old can fall asleep at the drop of a hat.  And nothing short of dumping him under a freezing cold shower will wake him up.  Then, of course, I would have to contend with the mother of all tantrums from hell.  

Understandably.  Sometimes, it’s easier to give in and let him sleep.  Especially after I have been dragged around the garden and regaled, in minute detail, about his Dinosaur Tour.  It’s kind of amazing really.  It’s as if he can see the creatures such is his imagination.  But often times I need a break.  He’s amazing.  But he’s exhausting.  So shit happens.  Shit in the form of letting him sleep at very very wrong times of the day. Hey.  I pick my battles. 

Dino Fossil
Dino Egg

Proof!  Dino poo!

It goes like this

The four year old likes to talk.  And has a very active imagination.

It tires him out.

He likes to sleep. For about three hours every other day.  Some days he may not crash till 4PM.

I do my best to keep him awake.  Regaling him with boring shite about what we did that day and the like.  I have been rewarded with an irritated swat for my troubles.

He’s asleep.

Deeply asleep.

He’ll be gone for three hours.  Tops.  Even at that it’s hard to wake him.  He likes to lie there for several minutes making sure his “large batteries” are fully charged.

I get him downstairs. Finally.

He likes a cuddle for another ten minutes or so.

Then, BAM!  Just like that. Fully recharged.

He hops down off my lap and returns to his exhausting play.

Trouble is, it’s almost 9pm.  The others must go to bed.

The futile act of teeth brushing and night time attire begins.  Futile because I know the four year old has a further five hours in him before he will fade again.  

Did I mention 9pm already?

They are all herded up the stairs nonetheless

The next two hours sees both parents take turns to go up and issue serious and dire idle threats.  All aimed at the four year old who is doing his living best to keep the others awake.

Finally there is silence.  The four year old is still awake though.

I haul myself off to my own scratcher at 11pm.

“I can’t sleep without you.”  The four year old is upside down and wide awake on his bed.  

Ripe for a game or two.  “You must get in here in my bed.”

He’s been waiting for me.

I cave and crawl into the bottom bunk bed with said four year old and tell him I am desperately tired and need to recharge my own batteries. 

A small forehead is pressed against mine, a tiny arm flung across my neck as I slip into deep sleep.

A gentle kiss on my nose.

“OW!  Did you just bite me?

“I did!  I am a Indominus Rex and you must run. RAAAARRRRRR!”



  1. The littlest one here is the boy who never naps, he is exhausted this summer keeping up with the others because they have learned the art of sleeping in, he has not.
    I look forward to the return of split and earlier bedtimes in September.

  2. I see my life panning out this way Gwen. Harry thinks sleep is for the weak; the very weak at that.
    Even having a hot 'sup of milk will see his batteries go from zero to fully charged. And I have a strong feeling baby no 2 is a boy.
    I am praying he is going to be a sleeper.