Sneaking

As I tiptoed to the bathroom this morning, avoiding noisy floorboards to enjoy some ‘me time’ before everyone woke up (you have to grab it whilst you can), I started to think about how much sneaking around you do as a parent.

You creep into their rooms before you go to bed, trying not to creak the door handle, to check they’re OK, and, depending on what sort of day you’ve had, either admire the miracle of nature you’ve created or feel overwhelming relief that the little s***s are finally asleep.

You sneak to the loo in the middle of the night and don’t flush so that you don’t wake them up (well, most of the time, anyway.  Follow the rule according to CBeebies – ‘If it’s yellow, let it mellow, if it’s brown, flush it down’).

However sneakily you try to use the loo at any other time of day, you can guarantee your darling offspring will sense it and want to use it at exactly the same time.  They’ll be ‘absolutely bursting’…even if they’ve just been happily playing for the last three hours.

You have to be savvy about trying to eat or drink anything yourself without everyone else wanting some, so you feed them first and then quickly leg it into the other room when they’re occupied to eat your own.  Or, you turn the television up louder so they can’t hear you opening the bag of crisps.  Or, you practise ventriloquism and try to speak without sounding like you’re eating at the same time, but more often than not they still say, ‘Mummy, what have you got in your mouth?’

When the Tooth Fairy visits, you carefully root around under their pillow for that tiny, white tooth (which is guaranteed to be planted squarely under their head), extract it and surreptitiously slide a quid (or £2 for a front tooth) back under like a member of the SAS.  You can almost imagine your partner hissing into an earpiece when you’ve finished, ‘Go, go, go, go, go!’ before the child begins to rouse.

At Christmas, you pull presents down from the loft and from the back of wardrobes (just knowing that if you drop one it will be the talking robot, or the ambulance with a siren, or the drum kit) and try to fold paper and pull Sellotape from the roll without it sounding like you’ve just set off a box full of fireworks.

You attempt a bit of ‘How’s Your Father?’ when they’re all in bed, but it always gets interrupted whilst you move away from the creaky spring or the wobbly headboard that bangs on the wall.  Noises of appreciation are OK if absolutely necessary (but preferably just smile at each other) and any other communication must not exceed a whisper.  You also need a plan of action and an excuse for what you’re doing, just in case any bleary-eyed children walk in, asking for a drink or telling you that they need a wee.

And that’s the contrary nature of children.  We do all this sneaking around yet we know that the very next time we’re in the car, talking, laughing and playing loud music, they’ll fall fast asleep regardless and sleep like little angels, especially when we need to go food shopping, or to an appointment, or we want them to have a sleep at home so that we can write our blog…