In a bid to have a lie-in this morning Etienne came up with (what sounded like) a great idea:
The child that sleeps the latest gets a surprise.
We were taking bets on who would be awake first (Daniel or Isabel) and would was the likely winner (Mignon. That child loves her sleep).
At 6:00 this morning Daniel is in our room. Can we please put the duvet back on his bed, he is NOT awake yet.
At 6:15 Isabel comes waltzing in and climbs in on Etienne’s side, sniffing and sneezing.
At 6:20 Mignon crawls in on my side.
At 6:23 I give up and get up. Mignon ‘can’t get up, her leg is sore’. So, off we go to the lounge, me carrying Mignon. As we pass Daniel’s room, there he is, lurking in his doorway. A clear winner.
So I congratulate Daniel on being the clear ‘winner’ and he beams happily from his bedroom door.
Chaos ensues. The girls are sobbing: they also want to be winners. Why aren’t they winners? They must also be winners. All accompanied by the most heart wrenching crying, all before 6:30 on a Sunday morning.
Sigh.
Having an existential parenting crisis explaining the concept of winning, keeping the ‘un’-winners happy whilst not taking away from the ‘winner’. All before 6:30 on a Sunday morning. Not ideal.
So, we have agreed that Daniel gets a bigger ‘surprise’ than the girls and now everyone seems happy.
Pass the coffee please.