It's not always that bad

This morning was really quite splendid, not because anything extraordinary happened, but because of all the things that didn't happen. And it reminded me that mornings don't have to be a nightmare, and also that they're not always a battle.

This morning LittleBear didn't:

• thrash around on our bed declaring his legs didn't work and he couldn't go and get dressed

• hide behind the bedroom door in an attempt to avoid getting dressed

• lie on the floor kicking his legs in an attempt to avoid getting dressed

• demand that I make a "flat LittleBear" on the floor out of all his clothes before he'd deign to wear them

• refuse to choose breakfast

• refuse to eat the breakfast that he'd been given

• drop his breakfast on the floor and then sob because he wasn't allowed to eat toast covered in cat hair

• throw himself on the floor sobbing because he didn't want to go to nursery

• throw himself on the floor sobbing because he didn't want to brush his teeth

• throw himself on the floor sobbing because he forgot to say goodbye to Daddy

• throw himself on the floor sobbing. At all

• declare that he doesn't like it here and doesn't love me any more

• run away when I wanted him to put his socks on

• run away when I wanted him to put his shoes on

• lie on his stomach broadside across his car-seat instead of sitting on it

• have a hysterical meltdown because he forgot to look out of the car window to see the river

This morning LittleBear came trotting into our room at 7am, clambered into bed for a big cuddle, went for a wee with no fuss, clambered back into bed to read about dolphins with me, got dressed quickly, hoovered up breakfast, played with his lego while I cleared up breakfast, read about tuna with me, brushed his teeth, got his socks and shoes on, got a dinosaur sticker for being so helpful, climbed into the car and put his arms through his straps and then listened to songs from "Here Comes Science" by They Might Be Giants all the way to nursery.

So next time I complain that mornings are always bloody awful, someone can now remind me that on 17th June 2015, the morning went like a dream.

And we'll gloss over being woken in the night by bleating, only to be told "I managed to do the thing I was trying to do", which turned out to be... getting the corner of the duvet lined up with the edge of the bed. Because I really needed to know that in the wee small hours...