The Adventures of Baby Anon

Baby’s Routine Mistake

‘It’ll be nice to have an evening,’ sighed Mother, her eyes narrowing in my direction in what can only be described as an accusatory manner.

I didn’t know what she was looking at me for. I have never prevented her or Father from having ‘an evening’. Except perhaps the previous night when sleep eluded me (I’d found that the brief restorative nap I’d had before tea had given me a burst of energy. Much to Mother’s disappointment). And perhaps the night before that, when my teeth had been bothering me (I say ‘bothering me’ what I actually mean is ‘causing me utter discomfort to which my only response could be non-stop screaming’). Possibly the night before too (‘It’s that bloody biscuit you gave her before bed. Look at her, she thinks she’s at a rave,’ suggested Father tetchily).

And anyway, their idea of ‘an evening’ is interminably dull. Mother will burn some dubious concoction. There will then be an argument about what to watch on television. A glass of wine may be poured, which Mother will get halfway through before falling asleep, her tongue lolling inelegantly out of her mouth. I recall all this from when I was in my Moses basket in the lounge. I’d watch them when they thought I was sleeping and a chill would snake down my spine: are these fools really my parents? A concern amplified by the sight and sound of Mother snoring noisily in her chair whilst Father twiddled a pen in his ear in concentration.

‘You’re right,’ agreed Father, nodding. ‘I think we should change the routine tonight.’

Mother inhaled sharply. ‘Are you sure that’s such a good idea? I mean…it’s a risky strategy.’

‘It’s the only way. Otherwise we’ll be eating dinner at 11pm again.’

The first thing I knew that something was wrong came a little later when they began to change me into my babygro. I am very intuitive and I could just sense that this was earlier than my usual bedtime. Well, I thought, I’d better let the dopey pair know (they can always be relied on to get things wrong. Just ask Father about his baggy t-shirt which is now actuallly a crop top following a recent washing disaster). So I tried to communicate this by crying. And when that didn’t work, screaming. And finally, wriggling.

‘C’mon darling, let mummy dress you,’ said Mother in a sing-song voice.

‘But it’s not my bedtime, you silly woman,’ I snapped, exasperated.

Eventually, after a lot of wrestling (by me), they managed to get me into my night attire. Before carrying me upstairs and placing me in my crib.

‘What do you think you’re doing?’ I asked, my tone icy. But my attention was swiftly diverted by the bottle of milk which I fell upon happily. Whilst I drank, Mother read a story in her usual overdramatic manner. I swear, in her head, she thinks she’s on the stage.

‘Right, night darling,’ said Mother, pecking me on the head before exiting, a smug look on her face. ‘I’ll leave you to it. Seeing as how it was your idea,’ she said to Father.

As I took my last swig of milk, Father said: ‘Night, night darling. Bedtime. Sleepy sleepy. Here, Lamby will keep you company,’ he suggested as he placed a small chap beside me. I looked at this ‘Lamby’ fella, then I looked at Father, then I looked at Lamby, then I looked at Father.

Of all the….nerve. Not only had Mother and Father tried to change my routine, they had had the front to introduce Lamby, a new bedtime friend, to smooth the way. (I noticed RoRo, my good friend and teddy bear, eyeing Lamby furiously from his spot on top of my toy box. As well he might). This was appalling. Well, I did the only thing I could. I picked up Lamby and threw him, narrowly missing Father’s head. I emitted a furious cry.

‘Shush, shush,’ soothed Father. ‘C’mon darling, go to sleepy sleeps.’

‘Try and sing to her,’ came a disembodied voice that sounded a lot like Mother. ‘Or give her that manky old teddy bear she’s always dragging around.’ (Later, furiously, I realised she meant RoRo.)

It took me a moment to identify where the voice was coming from and then I realised: it was from the camera over my crib. I had long suspected that they were using it to spy on me and I had just been proved right. Mother was clearly watching my every move. Talk about an invasion of privacy. I screamed even louder.

‘Shush, shush,’ tried Father. ‘Shush- oh forget it. C’mon darling,’ he said, picking me up and cuddling me. ‘That was an epic fail,’ he shouted at the camera.

‘We’ll try again another day,’ came Mother’s voice.

We’ll see about that, I thought, angrily. You see, I am very particular about my bedtime. I like to have my milk and my book whilst cuddled in Mother or Father’s arms and only when I am at the right point of sleepiness can I be carried to my crib. If either parent gets the timing wrong, I am liable to show my displeasure robustly. Sometimes that optimum sleepy stage takes a very long while to develop – depending on how many naps I have had that day. But regardless, that is how I like my bedtime routine to take place – and I view amendments to it very dimly. Mother and Father learnt an important lesson in parenting that night.

They also learnt another one the next day when they tried to rouse me from my slumber (my late night had left me weary). They soon discovered that you wake a sleeping baby at your own risk…..

I've always felt like someone's watching me
I’ve always felt like someone’s watching me

R is for Hoppit

10 thoughts on “Baby’s Routine Mistake

  1. They sound horrendous!! I can’t believe you are being forced to leave the party early. Everyone knows that babies are supposed to be the centre of everyone’s world and of every single waking moment. And some sleeping ones too. Fancy trying to have a break! 😉 Thanks for being a fabulous part of the #bigpinklink

  2. Hehe this is brilliant!

    You poor thing. Fancy insulting poor RoRo like that! I am shocked! I’m not surprised you hurled Lamby away – he’s an imposter after all! I hope your Mother and Father have learnt their lesson ;-D #BigPinkLink

  3. Poor baby, such atrocities should not have to be tolerated by you! I say we outlaw those cameras that are violating your privacy and outlaw any and all stuffed lambs that are sent to put poor baby to sleep before it is actually bed time. #bigpinklink

  4. Ha! This made me smile. I love how babies can give you that look like, ‘I know what you’re up to.’ My daughter gives it to my wife and I on a regular basis. #BigPinkLink

  5. Haha brilliant post! We recently changed my sons bedtime routine and have been putting him down at 7pm like his sister. We’ve had a few protests but now I actually get some piece and mummy time in the evening! Hurray!! It will come eventually, just after a lot of crying, screaming and a bit of a fuss from the baby! #bigpinklink

  6. I am glad that you stuck to your guns. Outrageous that your parents were trying to get you to bed early and then the spying! Sounds like they are stepping over their boundaries, you will have to have some more stern words with them #FridayFrolics

  7. Haha! Having had babies that did not allow me to have an evening (one still doesn’t), I am pleased to know they were also indignant about the situation (she’s 2 now so she lets me know that herself!)

    Thanks so much for joining us for #FridayFrolics

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