Bed times with the older kids are long and drawn-out affairs which I usually enjoy. We read to them, sometimes individually, sometimes to two or three at once. Even Robyn still enjoys being read to. Peter is currently reading her Pride and Prejudice, I am reading her Swallows and Amazons. And I am reading The Queen's Nose to Lauren. With Danny we have just finished The Wishing Chair Again. I am convinced Enid Blyton was either a) extremely high when she wrote this, on whatever folks got extremely high on back then, or b) paying someone else to write it who was extremely high on whatever folks got extremely high on back then. It is a thoroughly weird book.

As I was saying, I usually enjoy the bed times. However, with non-stop-talking-Robyn, sometimes it can be a little exhausting and I find myself desperate to finally say goodnight and crawl into my own bed, or flop onto the couch and experience a bit of quiet.

Bed time three nights ago was drastically curtailed:

Mother: Walks into room, hugs first born lying tucked up in bed. All cosy?
Daughter: Mom? You smell.
Short pause.
Mother: Ah. Of what?
Daughter: Shudders. Baby. Retreats beneath blankets. 'Night Mom.

~~~

I love having Stephen sleeping next to me in bed at night - little soft body, small sighs, warm milky breath. During the night he probably sleeps in our bed half the time and in his cot half the time. It depends on my energy level after feeding him and how easily it looks like he'll go back to sleep. For the sheer pleasure of having him next to me I would be tempted to have him in our bed all the time, but am not doing this as firstly I won't truly be too happy to have a toddler who can't sleep anywhere else, and secondly it seems a bit hard on the other kids if he is always there in the Top Spot. Occasionally they also wake up unhappy and want to snuggle in our bed for a bit. When Stephen wets his bed and needs to be totally changed, becoming very unhappy in the process, a lovely consolation prize after all the yelling (him) and bleary-eyed changing of clothes (me) is snuggling down together in the bed afterwards (no way am I doing bleary-eyed bed changing at night).

~~

This coming weekend I am attending my 20-year school reunion. Am experiencing feelings of curiosity and trepidation. Oh alright, nosiness and dread. On Friday morning there is a thing at the school. Considered doing the earth mother thing and taking Stephen along with me but honestly don't fancy either trying to comfort a yelling baby there or trying to feed him there, so am taking the easy option and leaving him with my mom in law for an hour or two, or as long as The Boss doesn't object, while I attend. She lives just around the corner from the school so I'll be able to get back quickly if she calls me.

I wonder which of my old teachers will be a) still there or b) dead.

On Saturday there is a lunch (a spit-braai, which always gives me the creeps). Families are invited and it seems to be a child-friendly venue so we are all going. Fear I am going to feel a little like Old Woman Whe Lived in Shoe however. Will there, I wonder, be anyone there with more than four children?

I am looking forward to catching up with old friends though.