When you make eye contact at bedtime…

Nothing is more devastating.

It’s been a long ass day and you feel like you’ve been dragged through 57 bushes backwards.

You’re absolutely LIVING for getting into bed and sleeping.

You go to check on the baby, taking a deep breath before so. This is it. Go time.

You open the door with the skills of a bomb technician, gently, calmly, quietly.

You peak in to check he’s covered, dodging any creaking floor boards like your bloody life depends on it.

Then, like something straight out of a horror movie, he opens his eyes and STARES. DIRECTLY. AT. YOU.

You freeze. You’re both still, staring at each other. Your heart is racing, in your head you’re going

“shit. shit. shit. shit. shit. shit. shit.”

You slowly back away. Not breathing a word. He’s still looking but he’s quiet. You’ve got this! It’s working!

You’re at the door, freedom and bed just within your grasp.

Then it all crumbles.

He stands up. Arms outstretched. Eyes wide open like he’s up and ready for playtime.

“MAMA!”

Shite.

Repeat for several years.

Wine.

 

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