It’s 5.58am. I’m two minutes from going on air to present a breakfast radio show. I’ve already eaten a bowl of shreddies, drunk three cups of tea and checked all my emails, Twitter, Facebook and showbiz websites. A rolling news channel is on the telly above my head.

I’m ready.

But while I scribble on my prep sheet, my mind can’t help wandering for thirty seconds.

I’m thinking of my nearly 2 year old daughter, probably still asleep in her cot. I’m thinking of my snoring husband, oblivious of the sunshine and the need to get the washing on the line before he leaves to do the childminder drop-off and make his own way to work. And I’m thinking of the fact I forgot to text my neighbour and ask her to collect a parcel from the post office before it closes this afternoon.

I look down and realise I’m wearing odd socks. And there’s a sudocrem mark on my shirt. This is what happens when you get up for work in the middle of the night and aren’t organised enough to put out your clothes the evening before. Anything goes at 3.30am.

But at least the sun was shining on the way into work this morning. And at least I now get to see the sun come up as I drive along the motorway Monday to Friday.

I smile.

And then the light goes on. “Morning”, I say into the microphone.

***

It’s now 8.30pm and I really need to go to bed. But I couldn’t resist the theme for The Gallery this week. Head over to Sticky Fingers to see the rest.

The post Morning appeared first on Mother's Always Right.

It’s all to do with the bedtime. Frog was given some books for her 1^st birthday, you see. Special books. Books which have an important place in my own childhood.

I’ve already banged on about how there’s been a story before bed since Frog was about four months old. Up until now, it’s always been the same one: Bedtime with Humphrey.

Don’t get me wrong. Humphrey’s a lovely little elephant and all that. But nine months of him is enough for anyone. By my calculations, we’ve read this book at least 270 times – I now know it off by heart. So it was time for a change.

After nearly two weeks of hell at bedtime, with Frog refusing to give in and go to sleep, preferring to shout and scream and wail in a (rather overly dramatic fashion) “Mamamamama”, I thought I’d bring a bit of Dogger to the bedtime table.

For those of you unfamiliar with children’s books, this isn’t some kind of seedy story about the act of driving to unfamiliar country roads to watch strangers do naughty things to each other (read: Dogging for that).

It’s a gorgeous book by Shirley Hughes about a boy who loses his favourite toy. I won’t spoil the ending, but if you grew up in the late 70s or 80s, you’ll probably know it anyway.

And just like magic, after an evening of Humphrey (we’re not quite ready to completely let go yet) and Dogger, Frog went to sleep. No tears. No dramatic wails. Just quiet thumb-sucking and blissful sleep.

So the next night we tried a bit of Peace At Last, another one of my childhood favourites. And what do you know? Result.

Tonight we’re going to introduce the Ahlberg’s classic Peepo! And there’s a whole list of other old faithfuls waiting in line after that.

But you can never have too many books. So what were your favourite childhood reads? Maybe I’ll add them to Frog’s bedtime reading list – we’re still looking for one to knock Humphrey off the top spot.

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