Good day, folks. It’s fair to say life has mostly returned to normality after our holiday to Greece.
The OddSon’s biggest takeaway from the holiday seems to be “Daddy beer. Daddy wine”. I think he’s trying to tell me I have a problem.
He may be onto something.
One thing that definitely hasn’t returned is the sleep routine. For starters, the OddSon will wake up every night around 2am and call out for me. A couple of nights ago I tried to take control of matters. After all, I do rank first fourth in my household.
During the usual bedtime routine I tried to provide more comfort by introducing a new toy for the OddSon to sleep alongside. Granted I didn’t work too hard to find the toy – I just stole one of the OddDaughter’s dolls.
Genius move, the OddSon settled quicker than usual. Except, as I was leaving the room I heard “mama”. That wasn’t the OddSon. It was the doll. I gave him a doll that talks when you squeeze it. I gave him a frickin’ talking doll! I frickin’ hate talking dolls!!
New mission: Remove the killer doll from the cot. I tried to find it in the dark room. He appeared to be lying on top of the doll. The more I tried to get to the doll the more it screamed “mama, mama”. SHUT UP STUPID DOLL. Too late, the OddSon woke up and demanded I get away from his baby. Great.
I sat back down on the rocking chair and decided to give it time. All relationships fall apart over time. And this was no different. After an hour I was finally able to retrieve the doll and escape the room.
2am. The OddSon wakes again.
I talked to him on the monitor, holding it close to my face… in a relaxed, calm tone.
He’s having none of it.
I resorted to singing his favourite songs over the monitor. You know, Twinkle Twinkle Little Star, Baa Baa Black Sheep, Eye of the Tiger – just the usual, really.
It seemed to have worked. He’s fallen asleep. Then SMASH. I wake up, having fallen asleep myself and dropped the monitor on my face. Turns out the OddSon hadn’t gone to sleep at all. He’s still on the other end of the monitor trying to get my attention.
I tried to calm him down. But this isn’t any 2 year old we’re dealing with. He knows exactly what he’s doing and how he can get his way. He removed his sleep sack. He knew that’d force me to get out of bed and into his room. I tried to resist. I AM IN CONTROL.
He removed his sleep suit.
Great. Now I have a stripping toddler at 2am.
If he gets to his nappy, that’ll come off too. But I gave in and went into his room. I’m going to reason with him – surely, he’s old enough now for me to reason with him? I put his clothes back on.
”Buddy, it’s sleepy time. OddSon sleeps in cot, daddy sleeps in daddy bed, ok?”
He responded: ”OK. Daddy beer. Daddy wine”
Dammit.
Then he continued: “Daddy, sit down”
Well played, OddSon. Well played.
Eventually I was able to leave the room and return to bed about 3ish. Finally I could go back to sleep. Then at 4ish I was woken up by a rave of some sort. ABBA. Really loud. Who on Earth has an ABBA rave at this time? I looked out the window to see where the music was coming from.
It seemed to have been coming from inside the house! Someone must have broken into the house and played ABBA. I grabbed the nearest weapon I could find… A spoon the OddKids had left lying around… and followed the Dancing Queen.
It was an old radio. One of the OddKids must have set the alarm.
I returned to bed. Half hour later the same thing happened again. Apparently, this radio has two alarms. Well, at least the house isn’t haunted. I could retire the spoon.
The disrupted sleep is really starting to get to me. On the way back from London I fell asleep while working on the train. That never happens. I’m pretty sure my head ended up on the guy’s shoulder next to me.
The OddSon still insists on having me sit next to him while he sleeps at night. Maybe I need to invest in a mannequin that I dress up as me and sit it next to him at night.
I can’t imagine that causing any sort of trauma at all.
