Wednesday, 26 August 2009

Coming or going?

Last night George managed a marathon sleep – 7.30pm to 6.30am. Brilliant – especially for mummy because, to be honest, she's the one who's been getting up to feed him with her breasts.

The nights have been getting better, though, and mummy and daddy no longer feel like they don't know whether they're coming or going through lack of sleep.

On the nights when daddy can't nod off, which to be fair isn't that often, he finds himself worrying about the daftest things; dogs on the loose – especially the rottweiler and pitbull varieties, busy roads and runaway pushchairs, the dangers of electric sockets, doors that slam shut in the wind and things that are extra hot like saucepans, kettles and fires.

Daddy used to fall asleep thinking about nice things, such as the plants he was going to choose for his garden.

Just when he is about to fall asleep mummy will break the darkened silence with "I wonder if I've tucked him in properly" or "does that sound like a choking sound or just a cough?". That, of course, is a cue for daddy to count in his head all the things that George might try to put in his mouth one day.

Now, even though daddy is getting enough sleep he still doesn't know if he's coming or going, and he's worked out that lack of sleep is not the reason. It's his t-shirts. Years of struggling with the likes of spaghetti bolognese, slushing wine glasses and a tummy that sticks out a bit means he has got used to the inevitable stain here and there. But George comes along and all of a sudden there are stains on the backs of his t-shirts too.

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