night

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Twinkle Twinkle Little Stars

My youngest son butted me in the head a couple of days nights ago. I've heard about kids mistreating their parents, but Tyl really starts at an early age.

I was gently snoring the plaster from the ceiling sleeping when he woke up and demanded to be fed. So Mrs.B got out of bed and made him a bottle. When he'd finished it, she sat him next to my pillow. Ever the funny type, he reached for my nose to give it a good pinch, but being the amateur-sitter that he still is, he lost his balance and BAM! He butted me right on the forehead, just above my left eye.

I can asure you that I was right awake, although I was still seeing stars so you can imagine my confusion. Amazingly, Tyl didn't feel a thing (or he was just too knocked out to start crying). I, on the other hand, can still feel the bump four days later.

Tsunami In Bed

People who are fed up with reading blog stories about fathers going on about how their babies vomited all over the bed in the middle of the night and how they spent more than an hour cleaning up and changing the bedding while their spouses made another bottle of milk because the kid isn't holding any food down and loosing weight fast, should now click away.

My son vomited all over the bed in the middle of the night. I spent an hour cleaning up, changing all the bedding. In the mean time, Mrs.B was trying to get him to eat again and had to make a bottle of milk because Tyl had dried up the wells just before he puked. Because of a severe cold and a soar throat, he isn't eating well - and then there's the puking of course, so he's loosing weight fast.

We've been losing a lot of sleep this last week, and if Tyl's problems weren't enough, Wolf has been yelling me out of bed too on a far too regular basis.

I want to sleep!

Bloodbath

Welcome to the House of Bart, for another tale of terror and woe!

It was a cold rainy night, some time after midnight - as is customary in horror stories. On the second floor, a small child cries.

Dog tired, I drag my butt up the stairs to check on Wolf. In the dim light coming from behind me in the hallway, I see that he is sitting on his knees in the bed. But there's something strange about his face and arms. So I switch on the light, seeing that he's awake anyway.

I'm struck by the horror of the scene. Wolf's face and neck are covered in blood, as are his hands and arms up to the elbows. He whimpers softly. As I pick him up to inspect, I see there's blood in his hair and on his sleeping bag, with a large spot under his left ear. His bed is covered in blood stains too; his pillow is practically drenched in blood.

'What happened', I ask him, but he doesn't answer. I look for a cut on his head - maybe he's fallen out of bed - but I can't find anything wrong. So I take him downstairs, put him on the cupboard next to the kitchen sink and start to wash his face and arms. 'My hands are red', he says.

When he's all cleaned up he looks like a little boy again instead of a  character out of a Hitchcock film. There are not cuts on his head after all, it seems he must have had a bloody nose.

I return to his room to put clean bed linen on his bed, while he plays downstairs. When around 2.30AM, I'm finally ready to put him to bed, he protests that he wants to play and not go to sleep. But when I put him in bed, it doesn't take long before he dozes off.

I on the other hand, have more problems to go back to sleep. That image of his bloodied up face and the shock of fear I felt still keep my adrenaline levels way up.

 

Bridge over the Niger river in Niamey

Bridge over the Niger river in Niamey
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