Last night I was having trouble sleeping. Firstly I couldn't get to sleep. Then Tiny woke up all out of sorts. Then decided she wanted in on our bed. Fine, I love that snuggly little body. When the small legs are not under my neck. And when she's not wiggling like a worm.
At 1:58am I roused from my half-slumber to Tiny getting all excited and sitting up in bed, and a small voice whispering, "it's wet, it's wet". A little unsettling in the wee hours."It's wet, it's wet." Thankfully it was a small familiar voice whispering it, and not a large unfamiliar voice. That would have been really unsettling.
It was a wee problem. Not only was Tiny still singing like a birdie in our bed at 2am, but the Doctor who had gone to bed with his croupy cough (aaaahhhgain), but he'd wet the bed as well. Man alive.
Kids. Let's regroup in a few hours. When the sun is shining. Sounds good? Sounds great!
I hate wet the bed nights. Disrupted sleep nights.
(Dandelion - aka wet-the-bed - image via etsy)