The Busking Toddler

The other morning, I woke up rather serenely to the sound of birdsong and the sweet aroma of fresh arabica coffee and freshly baked croissants. It was almost 10.00 AM and I had that very satisfied feeling, you know the one you get when you’ve had 10 hours of deep, cell-renewing sleep.

Hang on a minute. REWIND. That is how I would like to wake up. Let’s start again.

The other morning, I woke up very abruptly to the jingling sounds of a tambourine being shaken one inch from my ear. It was not even 6.30 AM and I had that very startled, heart-racing feeling, you know the one you get when you’re woken up long before you’re ready with a toddler waving a tambourine in your face.

‘Here’s a £1,’ I said to Beaver, hoping she would take her busking elsewhere. ‘Now, please go away.’

‘That’s not a £1, Mummy.  It’s silver.’

When Beaver first became interested in money, we gave her 10p and told her it was a £1. We figured it would save us some cash, especially as most of the coins end up down the floorboards and we naturally thought that, at only three years old, it would be a while before she realised the truth. Apparently not.

The early morning busking is only part of the problem. Beaver has always been a good sleeper but in recent months she cannot wait to start her day, in whichever way possible. Sometimes, it’s the tambourine, other days we are spared and it’s just a Peppa Pig costume and an assault on the visual senses.

Needless to say, like all tired parents, we are not so keen to start our day especially when there’s still a 6 on the clock. We used to have a rule that no one was allowed to get up before 7.00 AM but that is clearly being ignored and there seems to be very little we can do about it without the physical restraints of cots.

We were given a temporary reprieve after the decorator had been and fitted new doorknobs. For two weeks or so they were so stiff that Beaver couldn’t open her door. We enjoyed several weekend mornings waking almost at our leisure and then one morning we heard a click, the patter of feet on the stairs and that put paid to that.

So if anyone out there has any advice on how to deal with unwelcome, early morning visitors, I would really love to hear it. If the answer is, ‘You just have to wait until they grow out of it in two, three or five plus years,’ please feel free to keep that to yourself.

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