I think the main problem with fitting our kids into our bed with us isn’t that we’ve more of them, but that we’re a little bigger than we used to be and so are they.
“I. Need. Sleep.”
The directive came from Tracey earlier this week. I’m not surprised really. She’s been burning the midnight oil editing photos for weeks and I’ve been helping things by drinking lovely beer and snoring sweet nothings in her ear. Add to that our kids have been trickling into our room from about 1am on, and you’ll understand why she’s so knackered.
Especially as they tend to trickle in to her side of the bed.
“I tell you what,” I told her. “When one of the kids comes in, I’ll go sleep in their bed so you have enough room. And when the other kids see me in their room they’ll stay there.”
No, they won’t. But I honestly thought I was being a sweetheart at the time.
“That went well,” I chirped the next day when I met my wife in the kitchen.
Then she showed me the photo below she’d taken of our bed at 6am this morning.
I maintain it would have been a lot worse if my big ass self had have been in there as well.