Well quite the strangest thing happened. I woke up in the dead of night because the doorbell rang. So I jumped out of bed, naked as the day I was born, wrapped myself up in the scrumptious grey blanket Mum bought me for Christmas, skidded on a book and nearly went flying out of the window, regained my composure and headed down the stairs.
At four 0’clock in the morning. To answer the door bell. Hmmm.
See the thing is this: I haven’t got a doorbell. I have never had a doorbell.
I am as fuddled as they come.
So back up the stairs I went, to find Finley standing at his baby gate, looking for all the world like a nudey Wee Willie Winkie. Complete with green monster hat. And nothing else.
So trying to stop shaking, I dressed him in his choice of jamas, tucked him back into bed, told him a rather delirious hobgoblin story, climbed back into my own snuggly bit of heaven and prayed for sleep undisturbed by phantom bellringers.
Or little boys. But no such luck.
"Mummy, I really need to come and sleep in your bed, Mummy I need to."
"Go to sleep Finley" said I.
"But Mummy I need to. Shall I give you a clue why I need to sleep in your bed Mummy?"
"It’s cos I love you Mummy."
The little charmer! Even the most exhausted mummy in the world couldn’t resist a line like that.
So I hopped out of bed, picked up my once again nudey little monster and drifted back to sleep with his hot little body and sharp little elbows poking into me.
Don’t tell him, but it was kind of blissful. The kind of bliss that come hell, high water, or doorbells in the dead of night, will never be repeated.
Lordy how mean am I?