All this fresh Toronto air has had the effect of relieving Egg from his clothes as of late. Apparently the warm breezes coming off Lake Ontario are too sweet to resist for my budding nudist of a 3 year old. As often as not Egg is to be found playing/running/eating happily in the semi-nude...that is, perfectly dressed from the waist up and naked as the day he was born on the bottom. Not only that but whenever we're outside he asks pleadingly whether he may relieve himself beside the nearest tree. Should i be worried?
Meanwhile, Ollie Dumpie (who already wears size 4 nappies and size 3 shoes) has found a new pastime...flinging all his (and my) possessions out of the pushchair as we hurtle along crowded Toronto streets. So far we have lost two toys, his sunhat, and various other accoutrements...some retreived and some not. His fat little wrist flings them out faster than I can keep track of and i'm now limiting him to strictly biscuits while on the road in an effort to keep the defecit down.
Last night Dad naively suggested that Egg sleep with him in his bed, in an effort to gift me with a more restful sleep. Haha. Not only did Egg wet the bed upon being tucked in, but the next morning Dad awoke to find no trace of Egg, merely a wet nappy balled up on the pillow beside him and a rogue pair of pajama bottoms. The nudie bandit strikes again. Moreover Dad got kicked within an inch of his life throughout the night apparently. Can't see that offer being repeated again.
Anyway, keeping this short and sweet tonight as it's midnight and i have one child asleep in the pushchair in the hallway (too scared to move him at present) and another crashed fully-clothed on the sofa while 'What Not To Wear' plays idly on the telly in the background. We just got back from Dumpies' first live gig (Cinematic Orchestra) down on the Harbourfront (they were brilliant by the way) and though he slept through most of it he did enjoy a good few songs whilst munching biscuits and tapping fat little toes to the electronic beats. Egg enjoyed about three songs until Auntie Ba was unable to name the drummer, at which point he lost interest and took off with his Grandpa for ice-cream without a backward glance.
I sit here sipping a root beer and ponder sleep. I wonder whether there is anyway I can leave my children sleeping where they are and still call myself a good mother. Probably not. But it's very tempting to indulge the fantasy of creeping to the back bedroom now and crawling under the soft duvet and sleeping for 12 hours. In my dreams right? (sigh) Wonder if i snuck off to bed whether Grandpa or Auntie Ba would feel compelled to take over....? Hmmm.....