I am not a morning person. I am really not a 4.45am person. To me, that is the middle of the night. So I wasn't entirely with it when I staggered down to bear who was upset because he had had a nightmare. I gave him cuddles, crawled under the covers with him, but he was wide awake and full of energy. In the end I reluctantly said he could go downstairs, but I was not coming down for a while. Then I crawled back to my pit.
At 5.30am I felt like a terrible mother when bear came howling upstairs. I felt like a neglectful mother when I found he had got a bowl from the drainer, a mini box of cereal from the cupboard and milk from the fridge and made himself breakfast. I felt less impressed when I found that he was devastated because he had knocked over the cereal, all over the computer desk and all over the thick blanket he had snuggled into. The thick blanket that can't be left covered in milk, won't tumble dry and the weather forecast is for lots and lots of rain. I felt miffed that the howls of dismay at 5.30am were not because of the havoc but because they were the last mini pack of rice snaps and they were his favourite! I'll remind him that they are his favourite next time he refuses to eat them because he wants cornflakes.
Hopefully he will sleep tonight. I am confident I will.
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