That could have been Oz’s anthem this morning.
This young Sir thought it would be appropriate to start his (and therefore ours) day at 04:11 am, singing his favourite tune, which goes by the title ‘Maman come pick me up before I wake up the neighbours’. He was brought to our bed (oh I know, I’m a terrible enabler and will live to regret letting him sleep in our bed bla bla bla but the choice was getting up and be a zombie or take him to bed when he’d hopefully just play with my hair and fall asleep for another hour.) and he decided that it’d be good to fall back sleep holding my head in his tiny hands, then wake up and decide that 05.21am was as good a time as any to have ones first breakfast. I obliged.
He got his first breakfast – yes, junior has eating habits worthy of a Hobbit. There’s the first breakfast, around 6am, and a second breakfast at 8/9am. He’s a hungry child going through a growth spurt– got changed, dressed etc. And, like every morning, he got back in his cot with a few toys while I got myself ready. This morning however, he decided that after all, sleeping was not that overrated at all.
He fell back asleep and behaved like a teenager. By this statement I mean the following:
- Grunting when spoken to
- Refusal to wake up
- Strong sleepy protest over being moved
- Woke up
- Fell back asleep
- Grumbled grumbled grumbled
I managed to change his nappy, re-dress him, put on his sock and shoes while he was still sleeping. The main argument was when I got him in his coat and in the pram. The part where he got in the pram is what woke him up ‘for good’ though.
Typical.
I’ll add that he was full of beans as soon as we reached his nursery and was most ready to get his second breakfast.
Raiders of the Cookie Jar 