Julia Proverbs: Sweet dreams

Miss Five has had her first successful sleepover.
With her little sister.
After two failed attempts with friends I promised her that they could share for a night.
Unlike her friends, who went home after getting the wobbles, the furthest Miss Two would be going if it didn't work out was back to her own room.
So, with great excitement, Miss Two's bed was maneuvered into Miss Five's room and her favourite soft toys placed upon it.
A bed-hopping game ensued with thunderous leaps from bed to floor to bed, amid much laughter and squealing.
Having tactically moved the bed in the early afternoon, the plan was that by bedtime they would have burnt off much of their excitement.
However, as is often the case with small children, the best-laid plans go to waste and by lights out things had reached fever pitch.
Under the veil of darkness, they swapped beds, they loaded up their beds with toys, they played a game of chase.
And with individual and opposing settling techniques for each of them, we were snookered.
Miss Five, for instance, is a sensitive wee soul who hates the dark and needs a calm, quiet environment to nod off. Leaving the door open and checking in on her every few minutes tends to do the trick.
Miss Two, on the other hand, is spirited, wilful and challenging. Trying to reason with her is like trying to reason with a raging bull. So when she resists sleep, the most effective technique is to shut the door and walk away.
After a few minutes of angry shouting she usually falls asleep.
Unable to use these two techniques in tandem, I went for threats instead.
"Stay in your beds or it's the end of the sleepover," I warned.
Miss Five, who was determined to have the sleepover she had been denied twice, obeyed.
Miss Two was less pliable.
"OK, that's it," I told her as I frogmarched her out of the room, hoping the scare tactic would work.
But it scared the wrong child.
"I'm never going to have a sleepover," Miss Five burst into tears.
Not wanting to scar her for life, I bundled her up in a blanket and snuggled her on the sofa in the lounge, while I "coerced" Miss Two to sleep.
When she was literally snoring her head off, I took Miss Five back to bed.
"It's too noisy, I can't get to sleep," she complained at her sister's snuffling.
After turning one of her soft-toys into a pair of makeshift earmuffs, I left the room and she was asleep within minutes.
The next morning Miss Two woke at her usual 5.45am, so I quickly whisked her out before she woke her sister.
They didn't fall asleep together, nor did they wake together, but Miss Five was pleased as punch to have realised her dream of a sleepover.
Meanwhile hubby and I let go of our dreams for Miss Two's bedroom.
Visions of a sewing room and study dissipated with the return of her bed the next evening.
We had a serious case of the wobbles.