Before Jamie came along I had a picture in my head as to what her bedtimes would be: a bath, warm milk with a story, teeth and tucked up with a teddy. Jamie has other ideas. She just isn't the type to wind down slowly. Everything she does is with maximum effort and she runs, plays and hollers like there are no limits to her energy until she "pops." After her ten minute neighbourhood-shattering scream she goes limp, crashing. It's all she can do to cooperate with a quick tooth-brushing and I get out the first two lines of the story before she's away with the fairies. I couldn't love this girl more if I tried, but I'm telling you flat, she's either "on" or "off" and nothing in-between.
Then he yawns. Perhaps if he just sleeps I can go. Maybe I can find him a mother at the market. I make up another bed on the tile with a spare duvet and ball up another sweater for a pillow, but trying to get him to lie in it is like pulling an octopus off it’s prey. I want to just tell him to lie there and go to sleep but there is no way he will. There is a rage building in me, frustration maybe. I want to go, I want my body back, my freedom. I want to be selfish and not have guilt. I need him to nod off so I swallow it all down and lie next to him. He isn’t satisfied until his head is on my arm and he has his hand entwined in my sweater. This is a battle I just can’t win. Every time I even twitch his fingers grip tighter. The light is waning and it’s now or never. If I go at a clip I can make last trade, maybe get a bargain.
Found in Darwin's Ghost - first draft, authored by daisy.
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