|anything you like, just don’t wake Fifi up|
I had a taste of things to come last night when wifey had a girls night out with, amongst others, Izzy’s mum. Since her daddy was away at a conference, she had a sleep over with us (at least until about 11.30ish at any rate).
So, the boys first sleep over and in the words of Jason Derulo, I was ridin’ solo. The brief was simple, wifey and co left at 6.15pm and all I had to do was get them to bed and make sure nobody died in the interim. Even I could manage that.With wifey’s help I make sure nobody dies at night time almost every single day. That’s not to say we fail occasionally, but to say I am out on the odd evening myself.
I thought I’d eschew the disciplinarian dad routine and tell the Boy and Izzy they could stay up in the boys room as long as they were quiet and didn’t wake Fifi up.With that promise I got everyone off to bed at the usual time with only the reading of Winnies Flying Carpet as an aid to sleep. Go me, I am indeed a parenting genius.
So, by the time of the incident, I’d only been upstairs a few times:
- The world’s most enormous poo for the boy (I even tweeted my amazement about it);
- Closing the blind;
- A less enormous but still impressive poo for his sleep over buddy;
- Turning the light off and giving them a torch;
- Taking the torch away and turning the light on;
- Putting some music on (Cat Stevens if you must know);
- Opening the window;
- Shutting the window;
- Explaining the concept of superheroes and why it was alright to have a Spider-Man walltastic mural.