Oh it was a glorious night last night. In fact, we’ve had a few glorious nights recently full stop. The pattern generally seems to be as follows;
7pm- DB2 collapses in a knackered little heap of ten month old pudgy loveliness. I coo over him indulgently, thinking he’s the sweetest little man that the world ever saw.
10pm- DB2 wakes up and insistently barks/ bellows/ howls for a feed until I give in, even though I am fairly convinced he’s not hungry. I stroke his head in a slightly distracted way, thinking he’s a cute little dumpling.
1am- DB2 begins to screech again, long, drawn out screechings that, in the wee small hours of the morning, make me feel a bit insane. I eventually give in and feed again, thinking that he’s still cute, but also a bit annoying.
3:30am- the next bout of deafening noise hurtles directly through the monitor into our shattered eardrums. It’s about this point each night that DB2 ceases to be cute. It’s also at this point that the really explicit expletives come out.
Then at 6:30am, the ranks are doubled as DB1 makes a speedy and noisy entrance into our bedroom. They then both proceed to leap and bounce on the bed (and us) for the next half hour, while we desperately squeeze our knackered eyes shut and pretend that it’s not happening. Difficult when DB2 is simultaneously attempting to peel your skin from your cheek, or gouge your eye out with his sharp little fingers. (however, in the cold light of day, he has miraculously returned to being cute again. Bloody lucky for him, I say.)
So OH and I agreed we should start staging a protest, John and Yoko style. (less about the full frontal nudity, more about the lying in bed, in case you were worried.) We decided that it would be a good idea to erect a ‘Give Sleep A Chance’ poster behind the bed, coupled with a few smaller posters bearing phrases such as ‘Kips, not Kids’ and ‘Naps, not Nappies’.
Perhaps then, these two hyperactive little beings might get the hint. But then, it didn’t really work for John and Yoko, did it.
Anyway. That was our protest.
DB1 decided to launch his own protest today. It was far more aggressive in nature than ours; his was the Malcolm X to our Luther King. DB1’s was mainly focused around expressing his disgust at DB2 touching his toys.
Now, I do understand the desire to be possessive. After all, I wouldn’t like people grabbing my things willy nilly, particularly if the person doing the grabbing is then likely to put it in their mouth and drool on it, before trying their hardest to crease it, tear it or generally ruin it for good.
However, DB1’s panic and horror got to ridiculous measures today. Never before have I witnessed the sight of a toddler weeping in an almost hysterical fashion over the fact that their younger brother was in the hallway…ergo, less than the required ten metre radius from DbB1’s precious stash of toy animals. Yes indeed, he was weeping at the fact that DB2 might, yes, MIGHT touch his toys. Not that he was touching them. Or even close to touching them. Or even in the same bloody room as them. No, the fit was about the possibility of him maybe touching them in the future.
On that little sleep…I could have done without it.
But hey, they are both in bed now, and peace reigns. But wait…it’s nearly 10pm. Which means…yes, it’s all about to start over again…