Week 91- screaming yourself purple, sitting in the dark and Prisoner Cell Block H

‘Go to sleep Nancy.’

‘No thank you, mummy.’

Seriously. How are you meant to respond to that?

Nancy has been quickly picking up words and phrases.

 

And then using them to make it plainly known how things are going to run now.

 

With her very much the boss of us.

I realised that Nancy was totally reliant on the bottle to go to sleep. The same bottle she had when she was a little baby. It was fine when she was a few months old. But she must have been turning herself inside out, trying to get anything out of it now.

So, as she seems to understand so much these days, I thought it was the right time to upgrade to a ‘big girl's cup.’

Cue absolute, purple-faced, fist-clenching, foot-stamping tantrums.

I’m a mega massive push-over normally.

 

But this time I’ve put my foot down.  

 

Partly aided by the child-minder tentatively mentioning that she’s the only girl drinking from a baby’s cup.

Two weeks ago, Nancy would nod off on my lap while having a drink. It was lovely and warm. Like a human hot water bottle.

 

I’d transfer her to her bed.

And I’d be glass of wine in hand, Corrie on, by 7.30.

Now, it’s 9.30pm, Nancy’s rattling the bars of her cot like Top Dog in Prisoner Cell Block H, shouting, ‘get out! Get out!’

 

And I have no ammunition.

Nothing to barter with.

Nothing up my sleeve.

Just, Twinkle twinkle little star, on repeat.

Which she now, incidentally, knows most of the words to. So it ends up being more of a duet than a lullaby.

It feels like we’re back to stage one again.

Or worse. Minus one.

 

Because when she was titchy and wouldn’t sleep, I could decide for Nancy what the matter was.

But now she hollers what the problem is.

 

Or, and this somehow makes it so much worse, politely tells me, ‘no thank you.’

 

And there we are.

 

All sat in a child’s bedroom with the lights out. Waiting to see who will crack first.