The Cot


Dear Mum & Dad,


We need to talk about our sleeping arrangements. You see, it was all lovely when I first came to stay. You had this cozy thing called a co-sleeper, like a three-sided cot that attached to your bed. I could see you; you could see me. I was in touching distance for emergency cuddles and nocturnal dummy insertion. I could give you that big smile first thing in the morning, and even reach out my hand for you.

Now you bought into this idea of a proper cot. With four sides, and BARS. Now I understand I’m more mobile, and you don’t want me crawling all over you in the middle of the night. I even concede that I may have overstepped my boundaries on one or two occasions. But ONLY because I wanted to be close to you. Or climb over you and be close to Daddy. I kinda get that you like your sleep more than I do, especially when it’s dark (you call that nighttime?). But a full-blown wooden prison is a bit harsh, don’t you think?

Yes, it’s still close to your bed but I can’t get out at will anymore. I’m all caged in, HELP!

Yes, yes, yes – I know you made it all nice for me with new sheets and a cotbumper. I know Daddy drove a long way to pick it up. And blah blah blah… But the fact remains that it’s a cruel and unjust curtailment of my basic right to freedom, which I demand. Loudly.

And it’s really not all that it’s cracked up to be for you either. I only let you put me in there when I’m asleep. And you now have to lift me up, and down into this prison thing without me waking. I ain’t getting any lighter, you know. Last night I woke up when you tried to lock me in and created havoc for a few hours, hee hee. Just to prove a point. And to keep you from watching that silly Euro football game, mummy. 

Don’t get me wrong, I like the thing alright for daytime naps. I do my time, you let me out. But at night it sucks! I don’t get parole because you want me to stay and sleep some more! Besides, when I wake up, you can’t reach me from your bed anymore. And when you put me back in, you heave me over the railing like a sack of potatoes.

It’s not all happy like in the Mothercare catalogues. Have you noticed how they actually never have any real babies in their product pictures? There’s a reason for that. Besides, don’t you miss me being closer to you?

As I said, we need to talk.

How does 4am sound?





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