Hmm. Turns out J was right. We dug ourselves a great big doggy-shaped hole Friday night by allowing the boss-eyed one into our bed, and last night we fell into it, big style. We put her to bed at midnight, whereupon she started to howl, whine and yap, and attempt to both hurl herself at the door and to dig her way under. This continued until 1.15am, when for a blissful few minutes she stopped. Just as we heaved a sigh of relief she started up again, stopping briefly when I staggered to the kitchen and told her to shut the hell up. She seemed to stop then until about 4am, when Hubby had a go, leading her back into her bed every time she got out. Then she stopped until 5am when she decided she needed a comfort break and waited by the back door until poor Hubby took her out. Finally she settled down until the kids got up at 7.30.
Bleary eyed and exhausted, both Hubby and I had to resist the temptation to club #1 to death with the pepper mill over breakfast when he breezily mentioned that he hadn’t heard a thing.
Still, hopefully the worst is over. We’ve got to continue being firm and soon enough (so J reckons), the ‘midnight warbler’, as she was christened by J, will learn that her night-time place is in her bed in the kitchen, and not snuggled up next to Hubby under the duvet.
To add insult to injury, she then proceeded to give Hubby’s Mum a big lick goodbye, and cry for another fifteen minutes as he left to take her to the airport. Next, she dragged me twice around the field at about 35mph (she will never be allowed off the lead), stood patiently while her feet were washed in soapy water, rushed around the house like some lanky womble, picking up everything that she thought needed to be tidied up, then finally collapsed in her bed upon a huge pile of ‘treasure’ including my slippers, all the rubber ducks from the bathroom, the squeaky ‘Dirty Rotten Kitty’ that I’d ordered for B, #1’s stuffed shark, a pink gingham bone (another of B’s rejects) and a green plastic hippo, and fall blissfully, and noisily, asleep.



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