It is actually possible to survive on one hours sleep over the weekend and not spontaneously die of "lack of sleep" - but it is not recommended. At one point I think I started hallucinating about being asleep - only to find that - arse - I was still awake but in some sort of sick loop of anti-sleep nightmare. Kids and their temperatures eh?
Stupidly - I wondered how things could get worse. And bang on cue - at about 2am on Saturday night - my wife began her bout of turbo vomit. This sounds selfish - I mean - it was the rest of the family getting sick - not me. But the thing is - it's a known fact that man-flu is particularly brutal on well - men. So. I was right to be in fear for my life. Luckily I'm made of stern stuff. It'll take more than a dose of Outer Mogolian Monkey Flu to knock me off my game.
And that's why I was racing around the garden most of Sunday being attacked by a four year old with a "joker soaker". In the old days they called them water guns - but even guns containing water seem a little bit un PC these days. One minute you've got yourself a water gun - the next - you're upgrading to a water cannon you nicked off the police at the South African world cup...it's only a matter of time before we progress to bin bags full to the brim with a gallon of water and launched from an intricate trebuchet device I put together in the back yard in my spare time.
And so today - we awake way behind schedule and I realise that I have the strange pleasure of waking the baby up. It's such a weird occurance - I feel I should get out a video camera or something. But no. That would be wrong. So together we wake him and get him ready for his busy day ahead. Today - the baby thinks - today I shall mainly grin alot and smile and see if I can ram both fingers really far up my nose. Ahhh - such simple pleasures.
As I get out the car at nursery and carry the baby in - the four year old holding onto the bags with one hand whilst he protects the scratch on his left palm (now covered in a Mr.Bump plaster - the money the Hargreaves estate must have made out of that one!). Well - he suprises me with his wise comment for the morning:-
You must only ever cross the road with an Adolf.
An adolf? I ask.
Yes. An Adolf.
Are you sure you don't mean an adult?
No daddy! An Adolf!
So...there you go - only ever cross a road with an adolf. If you haven't got one - you better go and get one quick. That's the law.
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