nothing but a dreamer...

There's a new happening in the life of our little spud this week. Not that I've had anything to do with it mind you, I was handily out of town when the frog initiated the Big Change.

Recently, as some of you may know, we've been having Difficult Nights in which our son refuses to go to sleep. They've been getting worse and worse recently with him spending hours shouting and crying and begging to be taken out of his cot, usually ending with us taking him to our bed to fall asleep.

Anyway, so while I was safely tucked away on another continent, the frog took the initiative and transformed the spud's cot into a bed - and our son into a happy sleeper, just like that.

It's amazing. You have no idea how thrilled the spud is with his new bed - we have to sit on it, put the trains on it, pretend to sleep in it, jump in it, sing in it, eat breakfast in it... it's bed central. Today we went to Ikea and bought him a baby duvet and he basically spent the entire rest of the afternoon pretending to sleep under it.

It has, however, introduced a very strange vibe to the flat and I'm not entirely sure how to put it into words. Imagine this, then. You're asleep in your bed. It's dark. Some little quiet sound has woken you up. A sound you've not heard before. You sit up and your heart lurches to a stop as, caught in a beam of moonlight, a silent figure glides to the end of your bed and... touches you!!!

EEeeek!

I know, I had to take a moment to get my heart down past my epiglottis. It was, as you have no doubt guessed, only the spud coming to lauch himself at me. I however was completely unprepared. This evening it happened again. Normally, after we put him into bed, we give him a half a bottle of milk, warmed over to put him out. After he's downed it he shouts for me to get the bottle and then he falls asleep. Tonight, I had given him the good stuff and was pottering about waiting for him to shout when a little elfin figure padded into the livingroom, handed me his bottle and hot-footed it back into his bedroom before words could be spoken.

I'm not sure what I love about this the most - the lack of shouting; the new grown-up sleeping or, that he is stubborn enough to make his point even in the teeth of bedtime: he will get out of bed when he damn well pleases - but he will also get back in without having to be told. Either way, I am preparing myself for unexpected evening sightings and waiting for the inevitable day when we wake up to find him sitting in the middle of the kitchen eating butter with a spoon.

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