On weekdays we have a set morning routine in our house.
On certain days I get up and sort out the little man so my husband can get off to work, and on others it is hubbie’s turn to do the honours so I can get to work early.
But weekends are an entirely different matter.
Instead of jumping out of bed and getting ourselves some breakfast, dressed and ready for the day ahead, both my husband and I feel totally shattered and want to stay in bed for just a few more minutes (and then a few more after that).
At the sound of a toddler chattering away in his cot, both my husband and I play an unofficial game of who will crack and get up first.
I think if I lay still for long enough my husband will think I am asleep and get up – and I’m certain he is doing exactly the same.
But alas this weekend I lost – on both days.
So I drag myself out of bed, pull on my dressing grown and sleepily make my way to my son’s room.
And there I am greeted by the biggest smile, some happy little chatter and outstretched arms looking for a big early morning cuddle.
Well he would be happy, wouldn’t he, after 11 hours of sleep?
But that little smile and morning hug from a little boy so excited to see me ensures all my tiredness and grumpiness melts away.
I know I need to enjoy that while it lasts.
No doubt in years to come it will be a role reversal when I try to wake up my not-so-little-any-more man and he is trying to sleep.
Just a few more minutes.
Baking was a disaster
While my little man, and my husband, enjoyed an afternoon nap on Sunday I decided to do some baking.
Fairy cakes and scones were on the menu, but I’ll confess it was a bit of a disaster.
The scones turned out fine, but the cakes came out of the oven dry and pretty solid.
They only thing they were good for was some icing and decorating fun by the little munchkin when he woke up.
At least someone got some enjoyment out of them.