The plates are in the sink, dinner is over. That only means one thing. Operation bedtime has commenced. I'll set the scene. The house is a pit, the children have gone wild whilst I prepare their dinner, the concept of tidying up is lost on a four and one-year-old. Toy's have been strategically placed, their hairbrush is normally in an unusual place (they seem to enjoy the daily morning struggle of retrieving it) along with the remote control - Mummy isn't allowed to boxset binge.
This is my battlefield.
I cheerfully inform it's time for a bath. They cheer, they love bathtime. It's another opportunity, "rearrange" a room. Maybe their budding interior designers, who knows. I'm not a fan of the wet floors and scatter bath toys look myself. But you know, you gotta let them have that creative outlet. Plus, it's ok, it's almost bedtime.
The usual cute splashing ensues. Giggles and laughter fill the bathroom until it's time for their hair to be washed. Henry thinks it's a form of torture I'm sure, at least the howling would suggest this.
Bath done, time to dry and get jammies on. My daughter, fairly self-sufficient, can dry and dress herself most of the time. Henry thinks the same, he uses the air drying technique. Running around in the buff whilst laughing his head. Genius my boy. The only thing is, he thinks I'm on the large side. He's right, I need to lose a few pounds, so he's become my personal trainer. What a legend.
Exercise one, catch the nude banshee and place clean nappy on.
Exercise two, catch the not so nude banshee and lay him on the bed.
Exercise three, (arm work out here) place arms and legs into sleepsuit.
Exercise four, (fine motor skills now) do the 101 poppers.
At this point, I give myself a little pat on the back. I reward us all with a book or two. Darcie heads off to play in her room, she gives me a look as if to say "come on mum, you can do this".
Time to mentally psychic myself up for the main event. Putting the now clothed banshee to bed.
It all starts off rather lovely, cuddles, kisses - his version of "love you". I then tell him it's time for night nights, he nods his head. Climbs into bed and waves "night night". I then leave the room and it's all really quiet.
Winning.
I go into my room, just to make sure he's nodded off. But this is where his new game starts, a game I struggle to win. It's called "how many times can I climb out of bed before Mummy caves and cuddles me to sleep?" Well, the record is 24. Twenty bloody four.
Guess what? He won. I caved. I cuddled him for two mins top and he was asleep.
Tactfully I place him in his bed, move to Darcie's room and make sure she's all tucked up in bed and we say our night nights.
I breathe a sigh of relief as I head downstairs until I remember the mess from when I cooked dinner.
Thank's kids, you're doing a fab job keeping me on my toes. Now you better sleep through. P.S Love You. P.P.S Never change.
Mummy B xoxox
