Wow, nobody’s sleeping around here tonight. Grace just emerged from her room, plaintively complaining that her bug bites hurt. Another way that she’s my daughter. Seriously, to keep bugs away either choose a citronella candle or invite me. I can’t count the number of times someone standing next to me has exclaimed, “Wow! There are no bugs tonight!” while I itch myself to the point of bleeding. My theory is that it’s because I eat so much sugar that my blood is basically pure good stuff for mosquitos.
I went down to tuck Grace in, thinking of maybe pulling out my secret weapon, Preparation H (seriously, try it. you get over the mortification of buying it and … wow. best thing I’ve ever found). I didn’t, but I did stifle a giggle when she looked at me and said, “Mum? I’m in Bug Bite Town.”
And then, like yet another game of Whack-a-Mole, as soon as I pulled her door shut I heard Whit’s creak open. I went into his room, where he was busily creating piles of random blankets on the floor in the darkness. “Whit? What are you doing” I asked. “Mummy? Why does it take so long from when we go to bed until morning? It takes so long.” he whined.
I explained that the fastest way to get to morning was, actually, to fall asleep. He was deeply skeptical and even as I type this I can hear him banging around in there. I was reminded of my father’s advice, every time I was up with insomnia: he used to challenge me to try to stay up all night. It worked. Every single time. That man is a genius.