When I crept back in through the front door at the horrendous hour of 10.45 pm, child 1 was waiting, looking worried, a frown marring her forehead. About 20 minutes after I had left, my new baby boy had woken, his big sister had heard him crying and went into his room where she found him sitting up and sobbing in his bed, she of course lifted him out of the cot and took him into the living room, where he curled his little shaking body into her arms, tears silently streaming down his cheeks. Daddy came to the rescue and settled him, sung to him and a little while later returned him back to his cot where he slept soundly until morning.
Oh the guilt, was he upset because he thought I'd left him or was it just a bad dream and coincidence that on my first evening out, he should wake (he has never woken up in the night before) and I wasn't there to tell him "it's ok mummy's here, ssh sleep now." Of course I checked on him, gently brushing the wisps of blonde baby hair from his head, whispering words of love and comfort as he slept the peaceful sleep of innocent babes.
I had only just suggested a curry night out, thinking that my mum could babysit, but would hate for him to wake again with neither of us there, so instead of a curry out, it may have to be a curry in.
My two little heart thieves