Wishful thinking

Knock. Knock. Knock.
From the warmest depths of my duvet I hear it.
Knock. Knock. Knock. “Let me out!”
A plaintive cry from the youngest, enough to tug at any normal mother’s heartstrings but, I am afraid, not mine. It has yet to strike six in the morning and I am in no mood to get up. It is cold out there. I can tell this as I can see the streams of breath rise to the ceiling of my bedroom. And I do not want to get up.
“Mummeee! Daaaadeee! Let me out!”
Perhaps if I ignore him he’ll give up and start playing with his Duplo – after all that is the whole reason why I allowed him to have a huge box of it in the first place. I try to sleep again.
Bang.
Bang.
Bang.
“Let! Me! Out!”
OK! So that plan isn’t working. Better get up and sort him out. Some of you may be wondering exactly where my youngest is, I promise you he’s in his bedroom and a very nice room it is too, unlike mine his has curtains. The only problem, as far as he’s concerned, is that the latch is too high for him to reach – for other parents out there you, like me, will see this as a positive bonus. Let’s face it how many times in your life have you been disturbed in flagrante delicto in your bedrooms/bathrooms/or even on kitchen tables? I rest my case – although will add that the positioning of The Littlest’s bedroom door latch was not a deliberate act it was merely one of fortunate joinery.
As I reach the top of the stairs to descend and release the tyrant before he causes structural damage to the fabric of the house, I hear The Boy’s door open and am in time to catch a glimpse of him as he dashes to his brother’s aid with the immortal words: “Don’t worry, I’ll rescue you!”
The Boy is as heavily into heroics and being a hero. Occasionally, of course, he gets a little carried away and I am attacked on the stairs, in the bathroom or even as I get into bed, by boy brandishing a squidgy and much battered sword with the cries: “Hold Hard!” “Stop!” and of course “Die!”
I believe it is in a mother's best interest to die as often as possible. So now I tip[ toe back to bed to play dead perhaps they'll go away and leave me alone to sleep...or perhaps that's just wishful thinking!