Nap times, Matisse has stopped having them, surviving on power naps here and there throughout the day, and morphing into the spriteliest version of herself. Not this day, the excitement of the holiday, and the sadness of losing her new best friends days after making them (Bridget, Luke, Steven, Elaine... You baddies), her reduction in sleep and the fact her top two teeth are busting through her gums has finally taken its toll. We stopped for a snack and Matisse had her first tantrum, here it is.
We had taken away Karl's sunglasses, which she kept banging on the table, and throwing on the ground. When we didn't give them back she was going crazy for them, making the most insane horse-like noises, then she totally lost it. She wouldn't accept any other toys or be distracted from her burning desire to smash the black things that hide her fathers eyes. People could not control their gawking. She was honestly crazy. I know what you are thinking Mum, Poor girl, she is tired, teething and upset. I take full responsibility for this, but it was still her first tantrum, and over not getting what she wanted.
I felt so sorry for her beautiful little soul that has been an absolute trooper this holiday. I was also freaking out about the insight I just got into toddler days ahead. Putting myself aside, the plan was to put her to sleep in the pram, take the 15 minute walk home and spend the rest of the day in the apartment giving her a good dose of R&R.
The world conspired to screw me. First people started yelling right beside her pram, a horse and cart came galloping down the cobble stone streets (that's ridiculously loud by the way) a rubbish truck drove past, and then... as we were walking past any old building on the street, the clock strikes 12 and it magically turns into a church with, without one word of an exaggeration, the LOUDEST bells I have heard in all of Spain. And 12 noon too, the absolute worst hour of the day. I was about to explode with pain and laughter at the same time.
Then something unbelievable happened. She fell asleep. We happened to be passing the Cathedral, and there were no queues, so we tempted fate and ducked inside for a quick look. It was all going well until the bell tower chimed, and we happened to be standing amongst the bells, at the top of the tower. I can honestly say, these weren't as loud as the little church down the road, which has obviously found a decent way to outshine its rival.
Suffice to say, we hightailed it back to the apartment where Matisse had a two hour nap. We also decided to stay an extra day in Seville (and accordingly extend our holiday by a week) to give her as much nap time as she could poke a stick at. It amounted to about 16 hours out of the following 24, not a bad effort. And I got to catch up on this blog and bore everyone senseless with a blow by blow recount of Matisses sleeps. Ha ha blog stalkers.