I am an exceptionally poor poker player. Last time I played was the day of my brother’s wedding and I was out by about the fourth hand. Perhaps unsurprisingly then, I decided to go for broke last night – no putting Josie on the potty before I went to bed, no putting her on the potty when Sophie woke in the night. Potty training and sleep training at once. Might as well go for it while I’m fresh …
Here follows the chronicle of the night:
11pm: git next door revs motorbike; wakes Dad; triggers security lights; all quiet in The Den
3am: Dad wakes, as men approaching middle age are wont to do, and creeps off to use the facilities; battles to go back to sleep convinced he’s missed Sophie crying
5.40am: Josie yells for Dad at the top of her voice having dreamed about a “very long wee”, slightly wet her bed in her dream, but fought it so hard she fell out of bed, having thrown her duvet out first. Wee finished on potty. Sophie now wide awake. “Sleepy time girls!” Hold breath. Walk out. Listen to Sophie telling herself stories in bed. All quiet.
I think they’ve gone back to sleep.
6.10am: Josie: “Sophie, should we go and see Daddy?” “Yes” “OK, climb out of bed onto the chair … now climb down onto the floor. That’s right.” … pitter patter … “Hello Daddy!”
“Good morning girls!”
All in all a remarkably uneventful night.
Sophie, do you know, we’re going to start building a t-r-e-e-h-o-u-s-e today!