The weekend morning routine – #BEDM

 

A small person of one size or another makes a whimpering noise.

Immediately, myself and the Other Half adopt our ‘fast asleep, DID NOT HEAR IT’ poses and attempt to appear to each other as if we are quite probably impossible to rouse. A bit like dead lions. If the lions were being leapt upon or clawed at by smaller, very boisterous lions intent on ruining the game.

If I’m lucky, I win.

The Other Half, rubbing his eyes and most likely moaning slightly about how little sleep he has had (this is rocky ground. We have a five week old, and I’m breastfeeding. It’s a debate it’s not even worth starting) will hopefully retreat downstairs with at least two out of the three miniature lions and leave me to sleep a bit longer.

Either way, one or both of us will eventually end up downstairs pandering to demands of various child friendly cereals, coloured juices and irritatingly upbeat and brightly coloured tv programmes with theme tunes that have clearly been invented to cause as much mental pain as possible to sleep deprived and weary adults.

At this point it is probably about 6.30am. Perhaps 7, if we are lucky.

I’m not sure what happens after that.

Somehow, the morning disappears, amid a flurry of even more demands, piles of laundry, random tripping over things and getting halfway through ‘stuff that needa to be done’ (but somehow never get COMPLETELY done).

I’m not sure it’s exactly a routine.

But that’s what happens.