Saturday, March 10, 2012
2012 Slice-of-Life Story Challenge | 10
To be clear from the start, I was serving as an example to my son.
You see, lately, we've been having, well, troubles with afternoon naps on weekends. As it turns out, my son thinks pretty much anything is more fun that getting a few hours of shut-eye. Rearranging his many Thomas the Train Track Master sets (they're inter-changeable) is great...as is completely emptying his closet (which is a sticking point because it is one of our indoor storage areas for house miscellanea)...as is editing content from well-loved books (and by that I mean RIPPING PAGES OUT OF THEM). Sometimes, my husband and I are strict by looking through the crack at the bottom of his door to see a pair of white-socked feet tip-toeing around stealthily...and then we do what we have to do, which is provide warning and potentially spank (because, yes, Reid does know the rules). Sometimes, my husband and I chock nap time up to an opportunity for him to have some 'independent play' (because, yes, it is important to learn how to self-entertain). We probably need to pick a side and stick to it. We just don't understand why he won't nap on Saturdays and Sundays because he sleeps two hours each day, same time, for his sitter during the week.
Today, Reid told us he was tired at the tell-tale hour. We quickly ate lunch. He yawned. We had cuddles and warm milk. He yawned. We read three short stories. He yawned. We tucked him in. He became energized. In my quest to show him just exactly how important napping is, I mentioned that I was off to take one too and that of course, when I nap, I just get in bed and fall right to sleep. (Now, the honest truth is that it never even takes me 15 seconds to arrive in Sleepy Town...but that can be left out. I may be abnormal, or just over-tired.) I thought I made my point.
So, I kept up my end of the bargain. I headed straight to bed, slid under the cozy assortment of covers, and napped. It was nice.
My son --- not so much. Today, he rearranged his scooter toys and block wagons. Then, after Daddy caught wind of his play time soundtrack, the bedroom door was opened and Reid escaped yelling, "Mommy! What are you doing?" (I imagine he had to repeat his question a few times before I journeyed out of my deep sleep.)
"Exactly what you're supposed to be, my dear. TAKING A NAP!"
And, I'll say, if it helps, I'm happy to serve as an example each weekend afternoon. I've never been adverse to daytime z's and I don't intend to develop any opposition. I'm guessing someday Reid's perspective will change...you know, when he's good and tired from chasing kids and getting groceries and doing his best at his job and cleaning and cooking and making sure everyone's needs are met...