Last Friday night, after her brothers had gone to bed, Mr. Waffle and I took the Princess out to experience the Christmas Market and ancillary attractions. She absolutely loved it and so did we. She was as good as gold. We didn’t get home until 11.00. I said to her “I am a little bit worried that you will be tired tomorrow and very difficult”. “So am I” she said. And so she was. We went to the Brico (DIY shop) and she screamed blue murder. We were mortified. She didn’t really catch up on Sunday either. On Monday when I got home from work, the childminder said the Princess had gone for a nap at 5.30. When Mr. Waffle came home, I persuaded him that we should leave her: she had eaten and she was really tired. “OK” he said “but what happens, if she wakes up at 2.00 in the morning?”. “She won’t and, if she does, I will get up with her”. At 2.00 in the morning, there was a knock on the bedroom door “I want to get up”. My noble, noble, saintly husband got up with her, gave her corn flakes and, most miraculously, persuaded her to go back to bed. The following morning, all was sweetness and light.