This morning at 2am, Bugs wandered into our room and woke me up quietly whispering something unintelligible through the fog of being roused from a deep sleep. My first instinct was to tell him back to bed, which he did, albeit loudly and obviously very upset with me for telling him to do so.
I got a phone call at work from Mummy this morning telling me that the reason he was in our room last night was to tell me had done a poo and needed his nappy changed. Now his bottom is apparently all red raw and he is in quite some discomfort. To make matters worse, he's in family day care for the next two days so his nappy will be changed by someone completely foreign to him, and he can't really get any quality nappy free time either.
Now I find myself distracted at work because all I can think about is why my first instinct was to just send him back to his room, no questions asked. His sleep pattern has been disturbed a bit lately, but even at two in the morning it should have been obvious to me that he wouldn't have come into our wrong unless something was amiss. It never even occurred to me that he might be scared, upset, thirsty, hungry, in need of a new nappy or just some comfort and a hug. He's been so good about telling us things like this lately and now I fear that I might have set this progress who knows how far back.
I'm home from work for all of about 5 minutes tonight before I have go out to football training so I can't even sit down with him at bed time, explain that he had done a good thing, it was Daddy who was wrong and that he can come into our room at night at anytime if something is wrong.
Fathering fail of epic proportions by my own standards. Not happy. Not happy with myself at all.