Why sleeping beside a turkey would be comfier than sleeping beside my one-year-old


Around the time Magoo was born, I grew an ear in the middle of my forehead.

It’s pretty useless most of the time, except at a-quarter-to-sparrow’s-fart when she wakes up in the morning.

At this time, the sound of her welcoming the day like a sickly crow who’s been lost on the moors, drives through my brow-ear, between my eyes and into my brainmush.

“Gaaaawww!” she cries.

And then, “Gawww! Gawww!”

All falls quiet for a minute.

Then another.

“Could this be it?”, I think, “the holy grail, the day when she falls back to sleep and we get to lie in to cockerel-o’clock?”

How very ridiculous, you stupid woman!

“Gawww! Gawwwww!”

Time for the Super Defacto and I to hold our morning conference, which goes a little like:


“Fuuuck, it’s only 5.36.”

“Shall I get her up?”

“I s’pose.”

He grabs her from her room and brings her to me in bed for her AM breast-feed.

My tit flops itself out of my nighty.

Magoo latches on like a famished puppy.

We lie like this for a while, and it’s nice, really … really nice.

I stroke her hair, she plays with my fingernails, I kiss the top of her head.

We finish the feed and she snuggles in under my arm, sucking on her finger. I can’t see her eyes because it’s still dark, but, BY JOVE! I think she may be falling back to sleep!

I listen to her breathing and it sounds like the breath of sleepy lambs reclining on fluffy clouds.

So that’s promising.

Suddenly, two little pincers shoot out of the dark and grab at my neck, checking that I haven’t disappeared into a ravine in the mattress.

Magoo plucks at the stringy bits in my neck like I’m a cartilage-y harp.

I have even more jutting-out neck strands than Celine Dion when she is belting out “My Heart Will Go On”.

Next, she tests out the skin on my tuck-shop wings, seeing if she can pry it away from the flesh.

Then it’s 6am and Magoo’s “phone” rings.

This would be unbearably cute at any other time but 6am is a bit rich and I wish she’d just divert to answer machine like any normal person.

“Shish be-shish,” she greets her hand.

Me: “Um, yep … right, hi!”

“Blid dthee la gla da mamamama nnnnnnnnn”.


“Lllaaaaaaaa haHA dja!!”

“Okay, see you tomorrow then.”

She laughs triumphantly and rolls on to her hands and knees, lands a roundhouse kick to the Super Defacto’s eye and belly flops onto his head.

He swears at me, something to the effect of “I love you so much my darling, would you be kind enough to escort our pride and joy to the living room so that I may continue my repose?”

6.05am and it’s time to get up and arrange plastic animals in a plastic barnyard.


Would you rather co-sleep with a porcupine, a rhino or your own kid? Vote now by leaving an answer in the comments box below!


4 responses to “Why sleeping beside a turkey would be comfier than sleeping beside my one-year-old

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