Home Alone

So, is currently away at a workshop in Manchester, which means that the and I have been having some quality daddy-son time. This is also the first time that she’s been away from him overnight since he was born (see her post here).

I was a little worried about how he’d take this, but it’s been generally better than I’d thought. He’s been a bit at sorts over the last week, having just moved up to the next group at nursery, and he’s only just started going into nursery again without wailing and hanging onto our knees.

He asked after when I picked him up last night (“mimi?”), and kept asking on the bus, but I distracted him by pointing out that I’d promised him ‘cake’ (== malt loaf) the day before. Got home, got dinner on (fish pie – his favourite) and gave him a slice of malt loaf to tide him over while we were waiting for the pie to cook through. Watched CBeebies, ate loads of pie (he demolished 80% of an adult-sized portion), and then settled down to watch Babe (“baaa? gog! oo-ack-oo-ack! ee-ow!”). When that was over, he happily went to bed (read him Barbapapa *again* – the lad doesn’t want anything else at the moment) and settled.

Woke three times last night, which wasn’t too bad. Once just after midnight (he settled himself back down), once at 0315, and once at 0430. At 0315 he was rather upset and was insistently calling for , and it didn’t look like I’d be able to get him off to sleep again in his cot, so I brought him into bed with me for a cuddle; he settled within about ten minutes. Much he same at 0430, but he settled a bit more quickly.

Woke for the day when the radio came on at 0700. He was demanding , so I phoned her, and then we skyped for a bit (which at least let me get to the loo).

Had a cheery breakfast, then into nursery, again cheerfully. Dead proud of the little lad, am I.


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