With 3 boys under 5, there’s never a dull moment. Buggy Blogger mum to J (4), B (2) and S (11 months) enjoys catching up on her cuddle quota.

There were four in the bed and the little one said 'mummy, he’s kicking me' and 'ow, I'm getting squashed'. Having foolishly given away 'Solve Your Child's Sleep Problems' to a local jumble, I'm now repenting at my … somewhat interrupted … leisure. Yes, in the face of all sensible advice, we've sloped into the bad habit of allowing the bigger two to slink into our bed overnight.

Being a gal who likes her kip, I'm not best delighted. However, it's amazing how you adapt. As a small triumph in the face of my pillow-hugging offspring, I'm rather chuffed at having acquired a useful new skill. It's not where I’d envisaged parenthood would lead me, but even though I say so myself, I'm now a dab hand at contortionism. Simply bend your body at an excruciating angle around your bed-fellows and hey presto – you've cadged yourself a bit of all-important duvet and the chance of some shut-eye if you're lucky. Plus a very stiff neck in the morning.

It's not of course a talent I should be proud of. Apart from the fact that contortionism is quite frankly a bit freaky, I should also be flogging myself for throwing sleep-training to the wind. Because if there were Ten Commandments of Parenthood then 'Thou shalt ensure thine child sleeps in its own bed all night' would surely rank somewhere around the top.

But blow me if I've not become a bit of a rebel. I confess I rather enjoy the extra cuddles and I just can't get worked up on the who's sleeping where thing. Before you know it, they'll be shaggy-haired teenagers and wild horses won't be able to drag them from their eggy-smelling bedrooms before noon. Or worse still … and I hardly dare to think of it … there'll come the day when they’re sleeping somewhere - and in the company of someone - entirely different.

But before I sink into the doldrums at the prospect of three teenage sons, I can happily confirm that the signs of adolescence are thankfully still distant. They've yet to learn how to burp in chorus and farting's still by accident and not design. Their bedrooms are reasonably tidy (you can still see the floor in places) and they sometimes even voluntarily help with the household chores.

But most reassuringly of all the Personal Hygiene Monster hasn't yet nabbed them. I can still persuade them to wash and put on clean socks most days. A bath full of Matey Bubbles is still a major attraction and J's also discovered the shower, making serious inroads into our Radox gel each time but clearly relishing the whole experience.

And who am I to quench his childish delight in water? Or indeed my own mummyish delight at snuggling tight with my bedful of boys? Might as well enjoy 'em while I still can. Albeit in a different time and place than most child care-experts would suggest*.

(*Apologies to Dr Pat for any distress caused by reading about this rather slack approach to sleep routines!)

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