The Sleepover

"So, how do you like being on land?  It's pretty great, right?  And you completely love it, don't you?"

I close my bleary eyes and reach for my tea.  There is no tea.

I'll be right back.

Okay, now I have tea.  It is hot, caffeinated, and will hopefully get me through answering my chipper interrogator without hurting anyone.  Because the Papillon Crew does not sleep anymore.  None of us.

How do you land people ever sleep?  The bed doesn't move.  I know that's a funny statement from someone who gets motion sickness, but the gentle motion of the waves at anchor feels great.  And we all miss it.  When we reached Tonga after a twelve-day passage, the harbour was so calm that none of us slept.  All four of us ended up in the V-berth, wiggling for space and complaining about stray elbows.

This is worse.

Indy has always been a good sleeper.  Scratch that: she was a terrible sleeper when she was a baby.  But she normally falls asleep easily and stays that way until dawn.  Stylish has always been a night owl, and you can't get her out of bed in the morning without serious and concentrated effort.  But now, neither of them fall asleep.  This is a problem because they share a room.  Last night, there were whispers and giggles and fights and apologies and more whispers coming from their room at eight thirty.  Nine o'clock.  Nine thirty.  Ten o'clock.  At ten thirty I separated them, and put Indy to sleep in my room.  (Erik is working, which equals travelling, so there was space free.)  And that did the trick: by eleven they were both asleep.

But then, I had this.

Inevitably, both girls were cranky this morning.  Good luck to their teachers is all I can say.  I'm always cranky, so the difference is minimal.

I don't pack the kids full of sugar.  They get lots of exercise.  Goodness knows they deserve to be tired by bedtime, but they aren't.  I'm at a loss.  Help me, Obi Wan.

Score:  Papillon 1, Land 0.