Please don’t make me beg. The children already do that. At 10.30 pm, I negotiated as follows with the Princess:
Me: You need to go to your own bed.
Her: Silent clinging.
Me: Daddy wants to go to sleep.
Her: Silent clinging.
Me: OK, you can sleep in our bed until I come into bed.
Her: Silent clinging.
Me: Do you want me to come to bed too?
Her: Silent clinging.
Me: OK, look, I’ll lie down with you for a bit in Mummy and Daddy’s bed.
Her: Victorious smile.
So, ahem, I see from the Irish Times that there are Irish blog awards. I mean fancy. If you were to nominate me, I would be pleased, I would be grateful, I would promise faithfully to reply more regularly to the odd commenter who comments here (just to let you know, your comments are the sunshine of my life), so, that’s it then, except would you call this a specialist blog? I’ve decided that it is. This is not a hint or any attempt to influence potential voters should they exist. Should you choose to do so, you could nominate me here, or not, of course. It’s a delightfully straightforward process, honestly. Would you prefer, if I slept on the floor?
