On the fourth day of Christmas my true loves gave to me….four people, dressed; three frozen fruit treats; two burning snowmen and a queasy feeling in my tummy
If I refuse to sleep in the same bed as my child when he coughs and sniffles in my ear all night, does that make me a bad mother? G joined us in bed before the clock even struck midnight, last night. I politely lay there until he fell asleep, and then I left to sleep in his bed. Aside from the fact that I can’t sleep in such conditions, the noise also drives me nuts – like nails on a chalkboard.
I mean, I’ve accepted that he is a complete bed hog and clings to whomever is next to him like a magnet on a fridge. But, coughing, in my ear…in my face? I can’t do it. But apparently he didn’t get my subtle hint, or his dad’s – who abandoned him on the queen-sized bed in favor of the couch. G ran back into his room around 6am, looking for me, ready to climb in the twin bed with me.
I didn’t care too much at that point, because I’d had a few blissful hours of sleep. And I no longer felt like I was sapped of all energy and the will to live. The fourth day of advent would mark the first time in five days that all the Johnsons eschewed their pajamas for real clothes.
After breakfast (and making the cards we didn’t make two days ago), we opened up the fourth envelope and chose the day’s activity. ‘Do something nice for the Hen.’ It was apparent from his reaction that G had had something much more fun in mind – like painting, or playing with moonsand.
‘What do you think the Hen would like to do?’ I asked my oldest. ‘Paint,’ he replied. ‘No, I think you like to paint…let’s think about what he might like to do.’ And, try as we might, we really couldn’t come up with anything the little man would like. The kid basically likes to eat, climb on furniture, annihilate computer keyboards, turn important switches on and off and on and off again, carry moisturizer around the house, climb the stairs, hit people in the face, and take baths. None of which I was eager to encourage. Not that there’s anything wrong with bathing, but it was barely noon.
So we settled for making hot chocolate; allowing him to sit on the dining table, and I banned myself from using the computer so that I wouldn’t be cranky when he interrupted me by banging on the keyboard. And in return for all this niceness, the Hen took a legitimate nap.
It’s hard to believe this round-cheeked cherub is anything but angelic.