Monday 24 May 2010

I love him when he sleeps.





Ted is that revolting kid you meet in the supermarket, the one that runs backwards and forwards across the aisles, daring you to run it over, and incur the wrath of it's 22 stone mother, who thinks it's precious. the one you look at, and think, if that was mine, grrrrrrrr. But this revolting kid is mine, I have created this monster. As I type, he's dragging Henry across the stone floor, and it's making a noise like chalk on a blackboard. I'm ignoring it, because all the time he's doing that, the girls are able to snooze in peace. Every morning after breakfast Madge has a sleep on her sunbed, and as much as I'm sure she loves Ted, sleep comes a very close second to tennis balls, and even Ted isn't so stupid as to annoy a snoring Madge. Pie yes, Madge, NO!! So he goes looking for trouble, and never has any problem finding it.
Nothing is simple anymore. I feel a huge sense of victory if I manage to get into the shower and close the door before he realises where I am. It's not normal to feel like such a winner, when I see his little nose pressed against the outside of the shower door, and hear his sad little cries as he tries in vain to catch the water that sprays against it. I outwitted a 12 week old Spinone, YAY ME!!
Getting out of the door is a challenge, as I try and push him with my foot, hoping I can get my leg back before he latches onto my sock, because I can't pull it if he does that. Not because I don't want to rip the buggers little peggies out, oh no, that would be a blessed relief, but because I'm down to the last three socks without holes. I gave up the idea of finding, let alone wearing matching socks weeks ago, and the truth is, I'm not too fussed about matching shoes either. The idea of rummaging around in Ted's hovel under the willow tree, amongst the baked bean cans, underwear, broken phone chargers, sports section of The Sunday Observer, wooden spoons, flower pots, dustpan, potato masher, and Oxford English Dictionary (wtf?) is just too much effort for something as silly as a real proper matching pair of shoes.
The house is now silent. It's gone 11am, and for the first time since six, my boy is asleep. He is the most beautiful thing in the world, when his eyes, and mouth are closed. I will resist the temptation to poke him, and hope that he dreams until lunchtime. I love him when he sleeps.
In my saner moments I think up ways to tire him out, and I've found a wonderful company, who are looking for pack animals to carry supplies up Annapurna. All that fresh air, wide open spaces, Ted's going to love it.
PS. He must also have the sole surviving loo roll in his hovel, shame I didn't notice until it was too late. Continue the mantra....I love Ted, he's going through a phase...

2 comments:

  1. Brilliant, just brilliant!!! You have us in stitches with every post, keep them coming!!!
    Hel x

    ReplyDelete
  2. Thank you :O)
    Bet I've got more stitches than you though...mainly holding the deep lacerations in my ankles together, but stitches none the less.

    ReplyDelete