There appeared to be a conspiracy last night to keep sleep from me. By 1.30am I had switched bedrooms to escape the sleep-talking husband’s nocturnal adventures, only to be woken at 3.30am by Missy M’s screams that her toy dog (an actual toy, rather than a tiny dog that looks like a toy) had fallen out of bed. This peaceful parent informed said child of the known chart of relevant things to awaken parents for:
1. Complicated midnight toilet manoeuvres
2. Running out of drink (night time bar staff that we are)
3. Heeby Jeeby nightmares that require cuddles that make the monsters disappear
4. Falling out of bed
And that is all.
Go. To. Sleep.
(Insert brief cuddle here and shuffle back to where on earth I had laid out my duvet).
Today I shall fulfil the Zombie Mum role. ‘Tis my destiny (apparently) and I shall try to remember this, understanding I am operating at limited capacity, and not take my mood or observations too seriously today.