So it’s Oliver’s morning nap. Mark’s out at a job interview, I’m home alone, and I’ve got a million things to do as usual. We’re going up to Ottawa for a week tomorrow, so there’s tons of laundry that needs doing, and I’ve got to pack everything that 2 adults, a baby, a dog and a cat need (yes even the damn cat is coming), plus 50 million xmas presents.
So I take my chance and try to get stuff done during this precious time – it’s taking ages to get Oliver to sleep lately as Mark decided he was only going to be allowed his dummy at night, and he’s sick, so he could wake up coughing. But he was awake an hour earlier than usual, so he’s gonna sleep AT LEAST an hour, if not two hours before lunch, right?
I run around the house, periodically running back down to the basement to check on him. He’s only been asleep 40 minutes, so I figure I have time to put another load in the dryer, and try to do my delicates load. I also remember to strip the double bed in his room as my aunt and uncle are going to sleep in it one night while we’re gone.
I go downstairs, intending to grab my bathrobe for a quick shower.
Oliver has crawled out of the bed, across the floor, and is sitting there in his nappy chewing a dog bone.
So much for that coffee and newspaper reading in peace that was going to come after.
Off to Ottawa tomorrow for a week of Christmas with his Great Grandma, Great Grandad and loads more family. Will be a green Christmas, alas. We’ll be back on the 28th, just before Oliver’s first birthday. His first birthday. CRAZY.