Don’t You Cry Tonight

Or indeed in the morning Mr Axl of Rose. Who’d have thought Radio 2 would be playing Guns and Roses eh?

Today was one of those days where I was a bit muzzy headed by the time I woke up* and mini me was already awake and demanding “Dadda!”. Since my hair was lanker than a hermits and my face fuzzier than a teenager trying to grow a beard, there was naff all chance that I was going to be able to slink out the house before he got up.

I have mixed feelings about this. On the one hand its ace to see the wee fella in the morning and the cuddles I get at my unexpected presence are truly special. On the other hand the heart wrenching upset and tears, sobbing, wailing and general gnashing of teeth when I leave for work are something I could really do without. This seems to be getting worse as he gets bigger and I’m going to be really stuffed when he manages to open the stair gate and follow me downstairs.

It’s not as if M’laddo seems particularly over joyed come the weekend when I am around either but apparently he is getting into our evening pre bed time kick around with the £2.29 Peppa Pig football with all the zeal a two year old can muster. So much so, he begins getting impatient from around 3 or 4 o’clock. I fear for a future without the £2.29 Peppa Pig football, I really do.

*It was our own fault I suppose, we’d had our third (relatively) late night on the trot. This one wasn’t borne of necessity like the previous two, we’d instead decided to watch Baz Luhrmann’s wonderfully hammy Australia. We gave up at ten, leaving the second hour until tonight but we were both fairly knackered.