I’ve taken to doing the times table to bore my son to sleep.
Which in itself is proving a bit of a challenge.
I can’t remember anything past the sixes.
And this guy is literally impervious to sleep.
We’ve been scooting, paddling and trampolining today.
I’m knackered thinking about it and I was just watching.
But still he’s wide-awake, singing his rendition of ‘Danny Boy,’ which sounds uncannily like he’s drunk as he only knows every third word so just makes undecipherable noise for the rest of the time.
So the new plan is to just be so unbelievably boring that sleep seems like the more exciting option.
Which as someone who prides herself on being ABSOLUTELY HILARIOUS is not coming easily.
I’d play him the talking clock if it wasn’t so fricking expensive to ring up off a mobile.
This is now my life.
Fun times during the day.
Paint-dryingly boring from 6.45pm onwards.
I could be a freaking super hero.
Super Dull, bringer of boredom.
KILL. ME. NOW.