3.2.15

Nighttime Negotiations

As it starts getting to the end of Tracy Beaker in this household a strange atmosphere takes over. My son is fast asleep. Dreaming of Toy Story 3 but my daughter? She starts to wriggle, she gives me a sinister look (which is quite cute GOD DAMN HER) and the 'Nighttime Negotiations' routine begins. It's a game with so many twists and turns I never know if I am ever going to gain the prize of actual real time with my husband. Or waste my evening in the following ways:

One Last Cuddle
We start off with a few nighttime cuddles. Which is lovely as she smells so nice and clean and... oh God she is using it against me! The 'fresh from bath' child smell which reminds you of when they are a baby. It's like parent crack. She's sly this one.

One Last Story
So I've read Tangled. I whizzed through Frozen (singing a few songs like a performing monkey). We tackled Goldilocks. With accents worthy of an Oscar. I am spent. And then we have "One last story Mummy?". And I look at her beautiful face and think of her in therapy aged 34 saying "But she never read to me" (despite spending the past twenty minutes acting like her own private ruddy Jackanory") so I sadly pick up Brave and hone my inner Billy Connolly.

One Last Teddy
There are at least six teddies in the bed. We have squishy giant Elsa, Rapunzel, Alice, Anna Bear, Brown Bear and a random tatty one she found god knows where. I try walking away thinking this will suffice. Sigh. No. She wants one last bear. It is downstairs. I stomp off. And I am in no way swearing under my breath as that would be bad (totes swearing).


One Last CUDDLE
Oh for f*ucks sake!

One Last Question
I cheerily say "night night then!" and can almost hear my take away going cold, my husband growing bored and my nighttime TV getting closer to finishing...then we have the "one last questions". Inevitably along the lines of "what day is it tomorrow?" "is it the weekend tomorrow?" "are you at work tomorrow? (GUILT)" "when do we go on holiday?" "will it snow soon?". And so on...yawn.

Bare Faced Lies
I've got through the rounds of last cuddles and lost teddies and random questions about weather and days of the week. I've read stories where I re-inact full Disney films and then? I just start lying. Yep. I lie. About all manner of things. From saying that other friend's children don't have lovely bedrooms with magic curtains that make you sleep (?). Sometimes I talk about how the dog is waiting for her to sleep so the she can talk to me and tell me all about her day in dog speak. Just. Bare. Faced. Lies. And lots of them. Followed by one last cuddle. And? The lies always work*. BOOM! Gina Ford doesn't mention that does she?

I lock the door so the 'monsters' don't get her. I leave the landing light on so the 'monsters who are afraid of light' (more lies) won't come. I creep downstairs. I pick up more fork to tuck into my chicken chow mien, I look lovingly at the other half (whose on Candy Crush natch) and then...my son starts screaming.

Ding Ding. Round 2!

*please do not leave a comment saying lying to your children is wrong. I believe in certain cases? Lies are bloody essential. Think Father Christmas. Think talking pigs in the form of Peppa. Think of if I didn't lie my child would never sleep and I would never see my husband and we would get a divorce. SO THINK ABOUT THAT. Thank you kindly.


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