I Got Tag Teamed

Just bloody marvelous. I thought I'd heard it all after sitting through 5 day fog delays only for pilots not to fly having "run out" of flying hours whilst sat on their arses smoking tabs. I've missed the odd check in because of trains being cancelled with the old leaves on the line trick. Today, I had to explain as best I could to a 3 year old that the sky was broken, and the planes and helicopters can't fly on a broken sky now, can they. Bloody Icelanders.....if they're not swindling our cash, they're stealing our wife and mummy. Bastards!

All of which is neither here nor there really. BB is lucky I've not throttled him in the last 24hrs. It all started going pear shaped about 1am this morning.....

....that's when my bedroom door burst open. For the first time. For what it's worth, I was having a great kip to that point. In fact I thought it must have been time to get up. Apparently I'd been out for only an hour or so. We wee shite was all coy and giggly as he explained his PJ's were wet. Great, full bed change required. I had to dig his spare sheets out from under the stairs. Still, not tears, no drama and off we all went back to sleep. Well, he did at least.

Then I saw 2am.....and 3am....head full of utter crap really. Work?? WTF? Sex - it's pointless thinking of that at 3am even when MPLST is lying next to me, but when she's 100 miles out to sea??? Football. Anything really, I just couldn't get to sleep. Imagine my displeasure at 3:10am, just as I am finally managing to drop off, when the door bursts open again to the tune of "I need a poo daddy." A number of things went through my head at this point - The little shit needs a shit at 3 o fucking clock in the morning!! Well go to the toilet and bloody have one then - that's what my body language must have said, I of course was far more caring in my actual reply. I had the pleasure of waiting for 10 mins, waiting on the "I need wiped" call, listening to a vast array of straining and groaning noises, absolutely none of which would remove the turd in question from his little backside, whilst getting a running commentary of it's not coming out, why it wasn't coming out and that it was stuck in his bottom and it wasn't coming out. Did I tell you daddy that my poo won't come out.

Off to our own beds we trotted again, only for me to see 4am, then 5 am. In fact I think I emailed MPLST and told her I was getting the train to Aberdeen today, because the drive home would kill me. Finally, my head stopped spinning with utter nonsense, only for the door to explode open with the happiest little well rested boy declaring "Daddy, it's morning. We must get up. Get up Daddy. Get up Daddy. I said get up. We must get up." This at 5:45am.

I'm nothing if not fair. I withheld the temptation to go for the sarcastic retort. Instead putting on my best smiley dad face, and explained it was still night time and it was time to go back to bed. At this point, the two most stubborn heads in our house collided. The little drama prince threw himself to the ground declaring "No! I won't. I won't go back to bed, Daddy. Don't tell me" This is a voice of utter venom like I was the bugger who pushed Humpty Dumpty off the wall in a past life.

I did find the cure though. Once reason was out the window, I smacked his backside and sent him packing. Alas, he didn't venture out on the the landing until I was up and about which ended up being after 9. I should have done it earlier.

I got my comeuppance though. LL's nappy had not contained this mornings number twos which was smeared all over his leg, sheets an carpet.
At least they are teaming up with each other - even if it is against me!