Tuesday, 24 April 2012
I have been enjoying the development of what I call "The Art of Dissembling" which I see coming to the fore in the twins at the moment. To put it simply, they are becoming cunning, not in a sneaky or underhand manner, but in a blatant, open manner that makes the Sweetpea and I laugh out loud at times. Their comments are so witty and observant, most times unintentionally so, but at other times, just down-right calculating.
The Sweetpea had a cold last week and so was thrown out of the communal bedroom to sniffle, cough and snore downstairs in the guest bedroom by himself while he got over it. I actually personally believe he quite enjoys these times of "freedom", where he can do his manly thing, lying sprawled across the extent of the king-size bed down there without a wife or small daughter kicking him in the ribs or asking him to turn over. Needless to say, when I suggested that he remove downstairs, he agreed with almost insulting alacrity.
He was down there for about a week, and the boys started liking the new management of the bedroom. Nromally, when he says it is sleep time, it is actually sleep time. He does not tolerate the scratching around, shining of torches on the ceiling, rustling in the beds to get comfortable (which can really be overdone at times), and general commenting on the nature of life like I do. Normally by that stage of the evening I am so exhausted I lie in a stupor on my bed and listen to all of the shenannigans going on. It is as much as I can do to lift my head and say "Sleepies time now" every so often. Most often not even that.
Last night, a night I like to refer to as "The Return of the King", the Sweetpea was finally deemed better enough to return to the family fold. He was lying in our bed with me pressed up against him and the Litte Miss Snoopy sprawled over the other three-quarters of the bed, when a small voice piped up: "Daddy, are you going to spend the whole night here?"
Thinking that the little one needed reassurance, the Sweetpea answered him: "Of course I am, darling. Don't worry."
There was a long silence while this was being processed. He was wondering how to let on that he wasn't strictly worried about his dad leaving.
"I am worrying that you will catch me being naughty," the boy eventually said.