Conversations at 3am

“Mummy!”

“Wha-?”

“I can’t get to sleep!”

I rise slowly through the fog.  How does she manage to startle me awake like this, standing right beside my bed and talking in my ear, when I hear the slightest whimper from her younger siblings two rooms away?  “You can get to sleep, you were asleep when I went to bed.  Go back to bed, lie down and close your eyes.”  She mutters her way back to bed, and I lie in mine, awake now, trying to re-capture that dream I was in the middle of.

Half an hour later, just as I drift off:

“Mummy!” She’s done it again.  “I need to go toilet!”

“You are seven years old and perfectly capable of going by yourself.  You don’t need to wake me up to tell me at [grumbles] 3:30am!”

“But it’s dark.”

“You can turn on the light.”

“But it’s dark outside.”

Deep sigh.  “There is nothing I can do about that.  It is the middle of the night.  It’s always dark outside in the middle of the night in this part of the world.  Go.”

“Well I can’t go then!” and she stomps back to bed.  I wonder briefly whether she will wet her bed and how much drama this will lead to.  I wonder whether the stomping and grouching will wake the younger two.  Somehow while wondering, I start to drift off…

Half an hour later, she woke me again.  To ask a different question, but she was jiggling while asking, so I dragged my weary bones out of bed and not-especially-gently took her through the house to the loo.  Sure enough, when I turned on the light, she complained that it was too bright.  I can’t win.  It is dark at night, and when you turn on the light it is bright.

My best advice to her: sleep through it.  But what would I know?  She rolls her eyes.  “Mu-uuum!”

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One Response to “Conversations at 3am”

  1. Kelley Says:

    heh heh heh.

    Kids.

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