Sweet dreams

I arrive just as spouse is tucking them in to bed. “Right, so no pull-up then!” he announces in a booming tone. I stop dead and pout. No pull-up? Who is he to determine withdrawal of pull-up privileges? Is he responsible for the laundry? The inevitable carpet cleaning? Now there’s a man who is totally out of line. I think about pulling rank. I decide to keep my own counsel instead, and content myself with thoughts of the following morning’s ‘I told you so scene.’

The nerve of the man!

I kiss my children good night, hide my pout and return downstairs to smolder. What could he have been thinking, to change the rules in such are arbitrary fashion? No preamble, no warning, no carefully implemented campaign. The man must be completely barmy? I can think of no rational reason why he should have chosen tonight to turn the bed time routine upside down. I froth, stew and steam. [translation = voodoo dolls] I won’t have time to do an additional load of laundry tomorrow. The knock on effects could be earth shattering! No spare bed linen. Bare bed. More upset to bed time routine. No sleep for anyone. Curse the man!

In between fumes, I consider my own plan. It’s not as if we haven’t attempted this ‘dry at night’ campaign before, it’s just that it has yet to be successful. There’s no reason that we shouldn’t implement a new campaign, we just need careful thought beforehand. How can I have ‘beforehand’ if we’re already after? [translation = failure at the first fence is not a good reinforcer] All campaigns must be orchestrated with the finesse of a conductor. I suppress a growl. Spouse looks across at me. He is unable to detect the steam coming out of my ears, “are you alright love?”
“Fine!”
“Anything wrong?”
“No, nothing. I’m fine, just fine!” I do my best flounce and depart. [translation = high dudgeon] I swear he the most annoying person on the planet. Who does he think he is? Why is the other adult in the household such a complete nit wit. The venom and bile accumulate, but are well leashed.

I debate whether I should lift him later before we go to bed ourselves. Should I haul 56 pounds of sleeping boy onto the toilet? I decide to delete. I stomp back into the family room, because flouncing more than once in any one day, decreased it's impact. "You'll be o.k. lifting him later?" I announce rhetorically. He blinks in my direction, "er, sure, if that's what you want?"
"Me? What I want? And how exactly do my 'wants' suddenly come into the equation now?"
"Hmm what?"
"You asked if that is what 'I want,' but you weren't concerned with my wants when you pulled the pull-ups!" I snap with the perfect enunciation of the truly incensed.
"Pulled? Pull-ups? What are you on about?"
"You told him he didn't have to wear a pull up, without us talking about it first!" I squeak. [translation = and inadvertently spit at the same time]
"Ah! I see."
"Well?"
"Well what?"
"What do you have to say for yourself!" [translation = Lummy! I've turned into my husband's mummy]
"Well, I er, didn't have much choice really." I wait. I wait a bit longer. I suppress a sigh. "Why did you have no choice?"
"Well, it was him wasn't it."
"What was him?"
"Him,... I mean..., he said it, he asked, er, he said he didn't want to wear a pull up any more...... now that he was a big boy, although......those weren't the words he used.........but that's what he meant,.......I think, yes, that's what he meant, I'm quite sure."
"Well why didn't you tell me that in the first place! That changes everything!"


Moral – before you flounce, feel free to ferret around for the facts first.