“Aaah... what a delicious night’s sleep. I dreamed of washing machines and Father Christmas. You know what would go down a treat right now? A bottle and maybe a fresh nappy. What’s taking Mom so long with that bottle anyways? Perhaps I should make some loud noises to alert her that it’s time to get up and get ready for work. Hello? HELLO!! Thirsty Lionheart awake here with a well-marinated bottom!”
Except it is 2.50am right now and Mom desperately needs her sleep.
Yesterday when this happened, it was 3.30am, and Mom needed that extra sleep too.
And the night before it was 3.15am when Travis the Lionheart got an early start on his day.
This special needs mother is not of amiable temperament any time after midnight. It’s pumpkin time. Even smashing pumpkins time. She will huff, and she will puff, and she will trundle bleary-eyed right over any wise-ass toddlers who are bum-sliding about the house in the dark of the night.
“Travis, buddy, you really are going to get it all this morning!” she threatens, pleased that she’s retained some sense of humour... before kicking over a diabolically loud musical toy and waking the whole of Cedarwood complex up. Townhouse living: for the win.
Soapy the Labrador takes this as her cue to go out for a pre-dawn whizz on the dewy grass. “Where the frack are the back door keys?” Mom gives up fumbling in the soothing dark and flicks on the kitchen light with exasperation
“Oh hello, husband, I didn’t see you there.”
Great. The entire household is up. Travis is waiting