Fear of the dark


Destroyer had forgiven my finger biting from last night. This was good, because it was my turn to put the girls to bed and that wouldn’t be very easy if they were terrified that I was going to maul them.
However, both children now profess to be scared of the dark. I don’t know whether to believe them or assume they’re putting it on. La Serpiente had been acting out this evening, treading on her sister and being an ass, so she lost some bedtime stories, and then she decided she wanted to cuddle up to her sister. So then she climbed over me, and then Destroyer didn’t want to be stuck in a headlock or whatever La Serpiente was up to. Then they each demanded a blanket, and then got cross when the blanket was only on their belly, or only their feet, or when it touched their shoulders and their feet, or when they couldn’t lie simultaneously under and on top of their blankets, and its lucky that La Serpiente fell asleep at that point rather than concoct any other high class bullshit, because I would have lost my mind.

Destroyer didn’t go to sleep though, and every time I tried to move she cried out "don’t go, Daddy". After half an hour in the dark, a child cutting off the circulation to each arm, I despaired of ever escaping. My wife came in and levered La Serpiente’s head off me, and then I tried to slide myself out from under Destroyer. She promptly sat up again, gave out the most mournful "don’t go, Daddy" I’d heard, and then went straight to sleep. Do not pass Go, do not collect £200.

After that extravaganza, I felt justified in going out and climbing. I was rather too tired to get much done, but I managed a few new routes, got started on another, and dragged myself up the overhang again. So I guess that was a reasonable Tuesday night.


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