Also good for parents who’ve really over-cooked it with the booze
When I was 16, I spent three weeks in hospital. For the first fortnight, I woke up drenched in sweat, the sheet underneath me twisted and damp. This had nothing to do with the attractive nurses – I was sleeping on the standard issue plastic mattress.
In that instance, a kindly nurse gave me a sheepskin underblanket, stamped all over with NHS in big red letters (must have looked funny on the sheep). I don’t like to think about who else had sweated into it (and died on it) over the years, but I had at least moved beyond bedwetting at that age.
So when our eldest made the transition from cot to bed, we looked around for something that would be comfortable – but also be resoundingly, 100% piss-proof. [Read more…]