I’m a bit broken this week. Lack of sleep (I thought we were past those days) and tediously long bedtime sequences have stretched me to the end of my tether. Or stretched my tether? What even is a tether? Whatever (tether), I honestly think that on a bad night our familial “bedtime routine” would be enough to make the toughest person on earth break down and cry. I don’t know who the toughest person on earth is – I like to think it’s maybe Bane from Batman, only because Tom Hardy is inside him (cue innuendo onslaught) – but whoever it is, they would not cope with a particularly testing evening of kid-settling chez moi.
There’s something rather soul-destoying about thinking you’re going to have a small slice of the evening all to yourself and then having it repeatedly ripped from your grasp.
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