The snag, the splinter in my arse? Daytime naps. A. Thing. Of. The. Past.
This conspiracy between Grace and her new keyworker is threatening to unravel my already loosely knitted veil of calm on work days. I have taken to counting to fifty when ten used to suffice. Tired Grace, frazzled Mummy.
Now the little bear still snuffs some z's at the weekend when she will merrily rack up 3hrs or more on the metaphorical bed post. But on a school day? Not on your nelly Mummy.
The solution? Mild resignation to the fact I am being subjected to the 'change'. From toddler to child. Acceptance? Yes. Overwhelming sense of pride that little bear is growing up? Yes. Secret need to protect ones patience in a room soundproofed and padded with something that won't dint ones head when one knocks it on said wall? Certainly. And for everything else, there is after all vodka.
Anyone joining me?