5am and the cockerel is rousing. No, we haven’t moved to some rural retreat, we just have a 10 month old who for the last three months has considered 5am a perfectly reasonable wake up time.
I stumble through to my screaming son who promptly stops wailing. He gives me the biggest grin and thumps his legs up and down repeatedly. *Sigh*, just like his Daddy. (That’s the cheeky, heart-breaking grin, not the thumping his legs up and down part. That wouldn’t be quite so endearing in a fully grown man.)
So the next half an hr is spent sleepily feeding him in bed praying he might just doze back off. Today it wasn’t going to be. The leg thumping started back up and he decided the first thing on his to do list today would be a spot of nostril exploration. My nostrils. At this point in proceedings I sit him up and throw whatever happens to be on my bedside table in his direction in an attempt to entertain him while I continue to try and doze. Today it’s a tube of toothpaste, an empty box and a trashy chick lit novel. He seems particularly taken with the book, but it doesn’t take too long before he’s exhausted all possibilities of what you can 'do' with these items.
I reach out and blindly feel about down the side of the bed and find The Whirlwind’s doctors set. First I have the thermometer poked in my ear. A little uncomfortable, but hey, he put it in my ear! I’m impressed! Dr Simmonds. Yes, it definitely has a ring to it. Next he tests my reflexes by bashing me on the bonce with the reflex hammer. Not quite sure what reflex he was testing, but he certainly got a reaction, ouch! As some other piece of brightly coloured plastic is shoved down my throat I look over at The Hubster through the chaos of instruments who is enduring similar abuse. We smile. A ‘How-did-we-get-to-this-point-in-our-lives?’ type smile. Giggle Monster starts to moan so I pass him the mouth mirror. Now my Dad (who can be found at Apache Territory) has grand plans for his grandson. Pops, good news - he put it in his mouth. We could have something to work with here. ;-)
He swiftly moves on to another favourite activity – hair pulling. Or perhaps he’s trying to comb it? Would I be happy if my son turned out to be a hairdresser? Hell yeah, given the amount my hairdresser charges. He’s finding this activity particularly fun, however I’m not sharing the pleasure so I look at my watch. 6am. Dragging myself out of bed I make the same promise I do every day- I’ll have an early one tonight.
Cockerel anyone?! He could have a promising career ahead…….