Things are a little bit different,
now that it’s bedtime with two.
Each night’s like herding a tribe of monkeys,
At the world’s shittiest bedtime zoo.
It begins with begging the toddler,
to PLEASE JUST BRUSH HER MOTHER-SHITTING TEETH.
Meaning by bath-time everyone’s started crying,
And you’re already dreaming of your first G&T.
Bath-time counts as successful,
if you don’t drown one and then have to save them.
From now on you don’t wash anyone’s hair anymore,
It’s easier just to bloody shave ’em.
Then the toddler resumes negotiations,
with 75 reasons why she can’t go to bed.
‘I’m hungry, I’m thirsty, I need a jam sandwich and a poo.’
Right now you’d sell a kidney just to lay down your head.
Meanwhile the baby is completely happy,
So long as HE’S NEVER PUT DOWN.
Or rotated, over-elevated, leaned forward, back or round,
Whilst balancing with one f@*king foot on the ground
Yes, things are a bit bastard different;
bedtime with two is quite a palaver…
From now I’ll be letting them pass out when they want,
While I sit down and have a pint of Rioja.