Room Service please...

It was 6:40 am exactly! My bedroom door sprung open and 3 year old Emma burst through, full of life and energy and - desperate for the bathroom.

"Mummy, I have to go pottie!"

"Emmph," I mumbled, "so go!"

"Otay!" she replied brightly. And burst through the bathoom door, slaming it shut behind her.

I squinted at the alarm clock and kissed Elsa on the cheek as she snoozed beside me all cuddly and warm. I was barely drifting off when the bathroom door sprung open again. Out bounced Tigger disguised as Emma who announced:

"I'm doeing back to my woom Mummy, to be wit La La!" (Translate Lala as Gabriela, her 14 year old sister.)

That pronouncement was music to my ears - it meant possibly another 20 minutes of dozing time.

She drew in her breath and I started to roll over, but was halted by her next statement.

"So tan you make me a baba Mummy?"

"Emmm, okay Emma" I yawned and rolled back towards her.

"And bwing it my woom, Mummy."

I lay there blinking as she whisked out the door. I rolled over and woke my husband up.

"Hugo - we have just moved up a notch, now we are expected to provide room service for Emma!"

Funny, somehow he was not as amused as I was, maybe it was the hour?