Spaghetti

Waaaoooooooaahhhh!!!!! But I didn't want sauce on my spaghetti?!

Wailed the little lady, her mouth making a big 'O' of disappointment at her Daddy's ineptitude in dinner making.

But you asked for spaghetti and sauce?

I said helplessly.

I am sure she did anyway. Damn, I hope she did? Everything that had happened so far today was lost in a sea of fog borne of sleep deprivation.

Last night had been a rough one. Being the weekend I was not allowed to raise the mizzen mast in the attic as was my normal antics during the week so that I was fresh for work. Oh no. It meant I had to share the family bed.

Which really was the family bed because the little lady ran in most nights and did an impression of a demented starfish which wasn't the most conducive thing to sleep. Add to this the little boom co-sleeping with the good lady on the other side meant it was more often than not a big sleepless limb fest.

Last night she came running through shouting about the monsters outside her window. This promptly woke up the little boom who also started yelling. No doubt he was also pissed off with the monsters outside the window.

For two hours both kids tag-teamed each other at staying awake then as dawn was breaking fell and stayed asleep.

Of course, the good lady and I took this opportunity to fall upon each other and enthusiastically do the purple monkey shake. If the purple monkey shake means falling asleep in a dead faint.

Daddy, Mummy, wake up!!!

I cracked open an eye in disbelief.

The little lady was bouncing up and down in the bed, gleefully shouting that it was time to get up. I fumbled at my phone. Surely after the night antics, the pair of them would have allowed us a little lie in. A bit of an extra sleep?

5.45 AM

Both kids were full of beans and there was no convincing them that sleep was a cool thing to be doing.

However, the lack of sleep began to tell and by about ten o'clock the beans ran out. Tears flowed at every little incident. Feet were stamped and voices were raised.

Eventually, we made it to dinner where the little lady went bananas because she didn't want sauce on her spaghetti.

Through a subtle combination of diplomacy, threats and extortion eventually the tears and shouty madness calmed down. What followed was some thoughtful discourse on the subject of crying between the little lady and Mummy-bear.

It's alright to cry when you are upset. In fact, it is very healthy to let it all out.

Reassured the good lady to the little sponk.

The little lady stopped throwing the now acceptable spaghetti and sauce into her mouth for a moment.

So everyone cries then? Even Daddy?

Of course he does!

Exclaimed the good lady.

No I don't.

I huffed in a testosterone and beef voice.

The good lady laughed, a tinkling laugh at silly old Daddy.

Oh Daddy bear, yes you do. In fact, did you know that Daddy cried all throughout your birth and for a good bit after it.

The good lady smirked good-naturedly at me.

I made a wet fart face in return.

Daddy, why did you cry when I was born?

Enquired the little lady with wonder in her voice that the big man chap she called Daddy even knew what tears were.

This was the perfect time to tell her that I cried because I was overcome with emotion that we had created this perfect little addition to our family and that I was so happy I thought I was going to burst.

The lack of sleep answered instead.

Well little one. I think the reason I cried so much is that I knew what the next five years were going to bring.