This morning, at 7:30am, Sean started to moan and grumble.
I woke up. I made up a bottle of milk. Threw it into the microwave. Pressed GO. His moaning stopped. So I left the slightly warmed bottle in the microwave and hobbled back to bed to wait for him to start up again.
Suddenly it was 8:30am.
I hear sounds in the kitchen. Holy crap, someone’s in the house and stealing my baking trays! Oh. I crawl out of bed, lumber into the kitchen and I see Callum.
He had changed out of his pyjamas – taken his bedtime nappy off, put it in the bin, put on his daytime tshirt, shorts AND underwear.
He had helped himself to his water bottle and snack box (which I leave in his day pack) and was having a little picnic in the lounge room.
He had read a few books, played with a couple of jigsaws, and brought every plastic chinese take-away container out from my kitchen cupboard – in which he placed all his lego pieces, sorted by colour. He was in a good mood. A very good mood. In fact, he was HUMMING.
In my morning bleeriness and blahness, I ask him what he was doing with my baking trays.
“I’m baking a cake.”
“Because it’s my birthday.”
“Uh…… sorry to tell you this, but it’s not your birthday.”
“Oh. It’s Sean’s birthday?”
“Oh man. But I want to sing happy birthday.”NOTE : Callum does NOT do this every morning. Most mornings I have to engage in yet another game of suggesting, pestering, nagging, outwitting, convincing, and growling at him to do half the things I mentioned here. Perhaps I need more evil-Callum stories.