June 14, 2014
There were four in the bed and in was 5 in the morning. The little one had just come into bed for an early feed and was very lightly asleep between us. The furry one was snuggled against my other side, safe in the knowledge that it was dark and no-one would see him cuddling. At this point I realised that the alarm was still set for 6:30am, not a time I had planned to wake up this morning. Thanks to the contingencies of moving into our new house, the alarm lies just out of arm’s reach on my side of the bed. Very, very, quietly, I squirmed far enough to turn off the alarm without waking the baby. There was nothing I could do about the cat, however, who decided that activity early in the morning was synonymous with it being his breakfast time. The better to expound this point of view, he came and sat on my head. I am not fond of having a cat on my head at any stage of the day, and particularly not at 5am. I have explained this feeling to the cat before, and attempted to remonstrate with him now. Very quietly. Finally failing in these efforts, I resorted to the same langauge that I’ve used in previous discussions of this nature: throwing the cat as far off my head as I can. Being a considerate pet owner, I prefer not to throw him off the side of the bed, where he might land amongst sundry spiky items of furniture and hurt himself (or worse, wake the baby). Instead, my technique is generally to hurl him towards my feet, where he may attempt a controlled, nay cat-like landing. On this particular occasion, irked by the thought that I might otherwise be getting a sleep-in today, I hurled him perhaps a bit too hard. All the way onto the floor at the foot of the bed, in fact. This was particularly unfortunate given that he had his claws sunk into both of my pillows at the time, and took them both with him to the floor. At the foot of the bed. Where I couldn’t reach them without waking the baby. Who was asleep.
Our mattress is rather on the firm side, and being rather bony about the neck and shoulders I really can’t sleep on it without a pillow. I expressed the horns of this dilemma very quietly to my beloved, who graciously gave me her spare pillow. Which is possibly the thinnest pilllow in our entire house. I couldn’t tell you at what point in this entire proceedings the baby stirred and started complaining, but I do know that I hadn’t managed to fall back to sleep by then, and nor did I fall back to sleep afterwards, until the inevitable proper waking-up and the enthusiastic squirming, climbing on Dad and attempting to grab the (still head-orbiting) cat that accompanies it. I love being a father, but sometimes I do miss sleeping in!