Storm equals tiredness

If you read these pages even very occasionally, you will know that Joseph is, or at least, I think he is, a smashing lad. No really, if he wasn’t my son and someone was waffling on about how good their child was, I’d be thinking “yeah yeah, whatever” type thoughts whilst smiling at them and glazing over.

He has his moments but, as I always say, on the whole he is a terrific boy.

This morning, the storm woke M and I up at about 5.15am. I lay there for a while and cursed my luck when I heard M slowly nod back off to sleep, leaving me looking at the ever-lightening shadows.

As I felt sleep returning, I hear Joseph stir, he coughs and talks a little bit and then M goes to see him; it is about 6.20am. I must have nodded off because the next thing I know is he’s leaning over me, wanting to get into bed for a cuddle. I budge over, he gets in and M sandwiches him between us and we try to go back to sleep.

It doesn’t work.

Eventually, he announces that he “wants to get out so he can go to his room and play”. We eagerly oblige and close our eyes again, not all that hopeful that we will get back to sleep.

But we’re wrong.

I wake and look at the clock, slightly disoriented, and see the numbers 7.28 peering back at me. Wow! We’ve “slept in” on a Saturday for a whole hour, what bliss.

Hang on, what's Joseph been doing for the past hour?

As you open the door to our room, you look down the long straight landing into Joseph’s bedroom and there, sat in the lovely old Parker Knoll armchair in his room, is Joseph.

He hasn’t heard me so I creep along the landing a little to get a better look.

Poops has a set of 30 Thomas the Tank engine books in a little presentation box and he loves them to bits. He isn’t able to read them by himself yet but there he was, engrossed in one of the stories.

But the best was yet to come.

I stand and watch long enough for him to finish one of the books. He was looking carefully at each page of one of the books and I know from experience that he memorises all of his books – he often finishes the sentences of stories that we read together – and he is doing this now. He looks intently at each page, his lips moving ever so slightly, “reading” from memory. Whether or not he is totally accurate doesn’t matter – I know he’s fairly close.

Anyway, he gets to the end of the book, he leans over to add it to the pile he has been working through over the past hour, reaches behind his back and takes another from the pile which is stood up between his bum and the chair!

That’s it, I can’t stay quiet (as usual) anymore!!

Walking into his room I ask, “what are you doing Poops, you’re reading ALL your Thomas books?”

He jumps slightly, obviously totally unaware I was there.

“Yeah”, he replies, smiling because he can hear the impressed tone in my voice.

I go over to him and hug him. It is not returned and he pushes me away, keen to get back to his “reading”.

“Good boy. Thanks for letting mummy and me sleep in a little bit”.

For “sleep in a little bit” read; now Daddy won’t be like a bear with a sore head all day!