I bought Emma a book a while back called ‘Go the f**k to sleep’ by Adam Mansbach, basically it’s a different kind of a bedtime story with the line ‘go the f**k to sleep’ at the end of every page. Its AMAZING, but its even better when Samuel L Jackson reads it, you can watch that here. I’ve put a verse below just so you can get the gist of it.
‘All the kids from day care are in dreamland.
The froggie has made his last leap.
Hell no, you can’t go to the bathroom.
You know where you can go? The f*ck to sleep.’
Anyway, this isn’t a book I would recommend reading to your beloved children. I never give out parenting advice, but feel on this occasion you should listen to me, I have never read this to the Jam-eater and nor do I intend to. How many times have I thought these words or muttered them under my breath though. A shitload.
Following on from my last post, in regards to moving Flo to her own bed, it has been a success of sorts. On one hand she hasn’t fallen out of bed again, a win for the parents. On the other hand, will she go to bed as easy as she did before, will she shite.
She now wakes up in the morning as if she has downed 6 tubes of smarties (or farties, as she calls them) and just wants to play from the get go. Gone are the days when she would amuse herself in her cot while we got up and ready, she now goes from asleep to super f**king awake in 3.6 seconds, she is the Bugatti Veyron of toddlers.
Back to the point of this post, Emma went to work this evening and I took Flo up to bed. She climbed excitedly into her Doc Mcstuffins duvet and settled down while I read her a story or three. She acted all cutsie, luring me into a false sense of security and I give her a kiss goodnight. I walked out of her room with a mini fist pump, job done. Or so I thought.
I sat down in the living room and ten minutes later the chitter chatter started, what follows are the gripes of the Jam-eater which she started shouting downstairs. This now seems to be part of her current bedtime repertoire.
‘My cover has come off’ – it hadn’t, back downstairs I went.
‘I’ve got bogeys’ – she hadn’t, back downstairs again.
‘I don’t like being trapped’ – she means the baby gate, I don’t hold her hostage in her room. Honest.
‘I want a kiss daddy’ – she’s tugging on the heartstrings now
‘My dolly wants a drink’ – I call bullshit
‘My eyes are wet’ – that’s because you wont go the f**k to sleep.
There it is, the immortal line that parents will whisper under their breath. The book absolutely nails it. Eventually she settled after realising I wasn’t coming back upstairs anymore. I popped up about 30 minutes later to check if she was ok and to turn her lamp off. She opened her eyes and I froze like a statue. Here we go again I thought. Luckily, she just rolled over and went to sleep.
Silence in the Lewis household once more, well until tomorrow’s bedtime anyway.