There were three in the bed and the little one said…

Everyone, sing along:

There were three in the bed,

And the little one said:

“Roll over, roll over.”

So they all rolled over and one fell out.

There were two in the…

No, no, no. Stop.

This is not accurate.

Let’s look at these lyrics a bit more closely because I bet, like me, you’ve never really thought about them much before.

There were three in the bed…

Um, no. Actually, there were two in the bed. Me and Daddy-man.

Daddy-man was sleeping blissfully. I had finally put her head on the pillow ten minutes earlier. Actually, I’d fallen asleep hours before – but in an awkward position while trying to get Pumpkin to sleep.

I was juuuust drifting off when the toddler woke up and started jumping up and down in the cot, grunting.

I’m pretty sure that toddlers know what Mummy-going-into-REM sleep sounds like. And they do not like that sound.

A little alarm goes off in their dreams. “Mummy’s sleeping,” it warns them. “We can’t have that,” it silently screams until the kiddo wakes up and starts doing the Hokey-Kokey in her bed.

And yes, I realise that the best thing I could do in this situation is a bit of sleep training – pick a method, any method. But you know what? I was two seconds from dreamland. I’m tired. The kid will be awake at 7:30 am on the dot. I just want to sleep. And the best way for that to happen? Yup, I bring her into bed with me. She snuggles up and goes to sleep – and I’m right behind her.

Okay, so NOW there are three in the bed.

And the little one said: “Roll over, roll over.”

Not long after everyone has fallen asleep, this begins. Well, sort of.

The song implies some level of politeness. Like the little one is asking in her cutest voice: “Puh-lease, Mummy and Daddy, I’d be ever so grateful if you could move over for me – just a little bit.”

There’s no asking.  For one thing, my child is 18 months old and not talking yet (well, she shouts “Chuh chuh” at the top of her lungs when I ask her if she wants cheese, but it’s still pretty basic). Also, she’s sleeping – and she has much more effective methods of making sure she has plenty of room.

First, she kicks off the duvet and puts her feet on top. Then, she continues kicking, aiming straight for my head until I move out of the way and into a position where she can rest her feet on top of me.

We sleep light that for a while.

Then she turns 90 degrees. I call this the letter H sleeping position. Daddy-man and I form the up-right parts of the H and she is the cross-bar.

Feet on Daddy-man’s shoulder.

Sometimes her head is pointed at me. Sometimes at her father.

The one with the head-end of the toddler is spared from kicks in the face/chest/back. But, they have to contend with the hands, fingernails and head bumps.

And all the while, the kid is fast asleep.

So they all rolled over and one fell out

To be honest, I’ve sometimes thought that falling out might be the best thing to happen. There are no flailing toddler limbs to dodge down there.

But, instead, I hang off the edge. I like to think this as a way of improving my core strength while I sleep.

There were two in the bed

Eventually, Daddy-man gets up. He leaves for work around six. That gives me and Pumpkin a solid hour and a half with the bed all to ourselves.

And  the little one said: “Roll over, roll over.”

Her sleeping acrobatics continue until I can’t actually fit in the space left any more. At that point, I switch sides. Daddy-man’s side of the bed is more comfortable anyway.

So they all rolled over and one fell out.

Well, no. this hour and half is actually the best bit of sleep I ever get and I usually sleep until Pumpkin wakes up.

Occasionally, I might sneak off to the bathroom – it’s a luxury for mothers to wee in solitude.

There was one in the bed and the little one said “Good night.”

Sometimes this is correct. She spreads out like a starfish and continues to sleep.

It’s rare to see Starfish Toddler awake.

Or she wakes up and lays there, waiting for my return so she can give me some stink-eye and the sign for “milk”.

No stinky-eye here. But trust me.

I try to convince her to go back to sleep. It’s only 7:10. We have 20 more minutes of sleep. But she stands up, grabs the headboard and starts jumping up and down. If that doesn’t convince me, she shuffles herself off the bed, opens the bedroom door and leaves the room. And I stumble after her.

Thanks for stopping by!

(You can also find me on Facebook, Twitter and Bloglovin.)