Dexter woke up at quarter past five this morning. He cried. The only way we could get him back to sleep was to bring him into our bed. This is very unlike him.
My alarm went off at six.
If I have previously come across as being smug about what a good sleeper the boy is, this is possibly a tiny snippet of 'baby karma'.
His nursery notebook reliably informs me that Dexter slept for a good two hours this morning. During that time, I had a meeting, observed a lesson and supervised a detention.
The boy went to bed at seven o'clock this evening. It is approaching nine, and I am contemplating doing some marking in bed.
I am exhausted: he is totally, utterly and entirely worth it.