I love it when the spud does or says things that I had no idea he had cottoned onto, even if they are only tiny things. It may be that non-grandparental units should probably slope off about now and have a gander at something more interesting today as this is rather a damp squib I'm afraid - I'd make a suggestion as to where to go but for some reason I appear to be about to slip under the table and fall asleep in a tiny ball. Or as tiny a ball as I can make with my ungainly body. TEENSY tiny, in other words.
Some nights the spud doesn't want to go to sleep alone as I may have mentioned before. These nights he begs and pleads for one of us to lie down beside him - he whips back his duvet, pats the mattress and asks 'Lie down, please?' in the sort of sweet, cajoling and yet authoratative voice that makes me imagine him forty years from now at the helm of some vast dictatorship surrounded by adoring and yet terrified minions.
Last night he was determined to have company. He did his duvet/mattress patting number and I lay temporarily down to kiss his forehead and tell him I would not be joining him. He reached out a tentacle and pressed my head down to the pillow and then, then he stroked my forehead with one hand just as I stroke his and said 'sleepy time Mummy'. As I was getting up I was hit by a sneeze attack and he sat up, wrapped an arm around my shoulder and patted my back saying 'there there, better?'. I actually felt for a moment as though he was the one looking after me and that I should really just lie down and go to sleep.
I only hope he is as sweet and gentle with me in another 40-odd years when I imagine I would be thrilled to bits at the chance to have him plump my duvet and pat my back and smooth my forehead while I drift off dribbling into eternity... probably still trying to claw out one last blog before the lights go out for good.