It’s 10.20am and I’ve already had my first round of chocolate cake. Ah, no-ones looking!
A week ago we got back from our around the world in 30 days adventure.
When the Imp was little, it appeared he was a little different from other babies. Mostly, he stayed awake. He cried when he was tired, but he didn’t go to sleep. Other babies we knew would fall asleep. In pushchairs, in cots, wherever. The Imp took no notice. He thought those babies were weak.
Fast forward 11 months or so and put the Imp on a plane from London to Hong Kong. An overnight flight of 13 hours or so. Despite the flight being during the Imp’s nighttime hours, despite cuddling and feeding and snuggling and the dull drone of the airplane, the Imp does not sleep. His father manages to get him to sleep for an hour or so by bouncing him in the sling. But when he sits down, the Imp is up. But he is not crying. He is happy. He is flirting with the airline hostess. He plays peek-a-boo with the other passengers. For 13 hours. This child is not of this world.
Hong Kong to Sydney, he pretty much does the same, although this time the Imp has a partner in crime, a lovely little kid a couple of months his senior. By 5 hours into the flight though the fellow rogue falls into a deep sleep for the rest of the flight and the Imp is left disappointed by his mate’s lack of stamina.
I laugh at all the people who consoled me about the trip saying, “oh, all babies sleep on planes, they just love the motion and the sound, it literally lulls them to sleep”, “they give you a bassinet for them to sleep in don’t they?”
Yeah, no problem, I’ll just lie back and watch I Now Pronounce You Chuck and Larry. Good times.
Ok, so my kid doesn’t like sleep. I get it now. But he also needs it less than I think he should given he was a complete angel on the flights (sleep aside).