Snoozing

Well, it's taken a couple of weeks in the big boy's bed but he has finally realised he can get up by himself in the morning. And come and find mummy, which is fine. And run her over with the Fat Controller's car or a tractor or whatever other mode of motorised transport he took to bed the previous night, which is not so good. With this realisation have come some earlier mornings. Previously, he was sleeping past seven most mornings. This week it's been mostly half six, culminating in a cheery 'Mummy!' at 5am this morning. Followed by much fidgeting and digging of tiny toes into my ribs.

I realise I'm very lucky compared with some folks that my little man does now usually sleep a good twelve hours solid. And, just to rub it in, this morning I got so fed up of his constant fidgeting I carried him back to his own bed at half five, tucked him in, said night night and he actually stayed there and went back to sleep until quarter past seven. I was rather surprised.

Daytime naps still usually require a trip in the car though. Yesterday, I took him out for an hour's walk to get some fresh air and sunshine, thinking he would doze off in the buggy. (I couldn't be bothered carrying him, ok; I'm not supermum!) Anyway, he whinged and whined and was still wide awake when we got home. I stuck him in the car and two minutes down the Daresbury Expressway he was fast asleep.

That was the day I had the funny dream about barbecuing. Apologies to facebook people who read it on my status. I carried the little man inside and thought, bugger the housework I'm having a snooze too. I duly dozed off only to be startled awake when I dreamed I was having a barbecue and that I burned my hand on the tongs. Yes, I'm that clumsy. Clumsy enough to burn myself in my sleep with an imaginary kitchen utensil.