The sun wasn't even up when Miss2 once again graced us with her presence in our bed. Unfortunately she doesn't sneak into our room: she's the two year old equivalent of a marching band.
Of course, when I did realize she was in the kitchen and Miss0 was screaming blue murder I quickly put two and two together and sprung into action.
"Mummy!" she softly bellowed. "Up!"
Not surprisingly she woke up Miss0. Not that this worried Miss2, who hunkered down into Tracey's pillow and promptly went back to sleep.
After several attempts to ignore the little poppet in the cot, and several more pinning our hopes on plugging the noise with a dummy, we realized a bottle was called for.
Well, Tracey realized this. Ashamed to say I barely realized my wife was out of bed.
"Sophie.....Sophie.....Sophie....," I called out from my pillow. "Don't cry, darling. Mummy's coming."
She continued to squawk.
"Sophie!" I said loudly, in a lazy attempt to distract her so she'd be quiet again and I could go back to sleep. "Sooooophieeeee."
"Bruce, stop helping! And learn the names of your kids, would you," Tracey snapped at me as she arrived back in the room with a bottle. Seems our Miss0's name is Emily, but then I'm pretty sure I knew that already. "If you'd woken Sophie back up I'd seriously have throttled you."
"Stop helping. Got you," I mumbled. "I'm all over it."
I think she said some other stuff too, but I was already back to sleep.
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