Littleun snuck downstairs today. Something he does quite often but normally it wakes me up so I know he’s done it. It’s quite funny to watch, imagine a 1950’s cartoon of a bank robber, high on the tiptoes carrying swag over the shoulder which in this case is actually his toys bundled up inside his blanket, taking exaggerated paces trying to avoid all the creaking floorboards before giving up and jumping the last few stairs into the front room. He has learnt that the tv makes a loud noise when he turns it on (I deliberately leave the volume setting high) and so he has managed to find out how to mute it as soon as possible.
Now before you wonder why I have a problem with this I’ll just remind you that the house is still in areas a hardhat building site.
Today though was different, he didn’t wake me up. The first I knew about him getting there was when I was poked in the arm, quite hard I might add, and a whisper in the ear telling me to “wake up mummy”. Turns out he thought he would make me breakfast. This is his first time unattended at doing so and he wanted to explain what it was he had done: “toast mummy, but not cooked”, “jam” already sampled judging by his face, “Orange juice” in the special “don’t touch ever mummy, Toy Story cup”, “cereal” otherwise known as cats biscuits think he might have got the two jars mixed up, “yucky yoghurt” prune flavour been stuck in the fridge for weeks as I keep forgetting about it, “nana’s, one for you and two for me” and lastly “crisps”.
Not too bad I think, might point him towards the laundry and see if he fancies doing that whilst I sleep....