Last weekend we tuned into MTV and came up with a couple of outfits. Check some of them out:
I write to you from Hell… just kidding, I’m on the foot stool next to Bug’s bed. Not talking, not touching, just sitting while she lies with her head facing the other way. And every few minutes gives an attempt at a cry. But at least she’s in her bed! She’s completely refused all naps in her bed so far this week. So this is a major win! I’m talking champagne, the I proper stuff… or at least a really large glass of whatever is open in the fridge. Now bedtime is the stuff nightmares are made from! Bedtime used to be a pleasant routine, now it’s a panic-inducing labour. I’m pretty sure my blood pressure is through the roof, climbing from approximately 18:00, in anticipation of the dreaded sleep attempts! Last night was an early 22:00ish before she was down. The night before, midnight. And over the weekend, one night her refusals were so adamant that I got a sum total of zero hours sleep. By midnight it was clear the only way she’d sleep was in my arms. So Bug and I got the big ...
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