“What are little boys made of? Frogs and snails and puppy dog tails. That’s what little boys are made of”
As I sit here… at 10:37 at night… typing this blog… with my son on my lap… playing angry birds on my phone…
I am realizing something…
I am an extremely bad push over.
I know … as every good mother knows… that Owen should be sleeping by 9 pm… in his own bed… with his lights off.
But for some reason…
Here he sits… with me… late at night… with all of the lights on.
And let’s be honest… he will most likely be sleeping with me too.
Owen never had problems sleeping in his own bed or going to bed on time… that is of course… until I took away his nuk (or as he called it… his fafa). Since then he has been staying up until 11pm at night… playing in his room or reading books… until I finally cave and let him crawl into bed with me.
Since before Owen was born I swore that he would never EVER sleep in my bed… unless he was sick or scared of a storm.
I never wanted to be “that” parent that let her child sleep in her bed until they were five or six… or was sleep deprived because their child spent most of the night kicking them in the side… or in my case… the head.
But here I am… I am officially “that” parent.
I know that I don’t want him to get in the routine of sleeping with me, but let’s be honest…
Selfishly, I don’t mind sleeping next to a warm body again… and it isn’t bad knowing that he is safe and warm.