Nap time. It is so restful when the time comes to settle down quietly after a strenuous morning of striving to be nice to each other despite… everything. That includes the slow start in school, with a wrestling match that abruptly vanished without a trace as soon as my feet hit the staircase to go down to the schoolroom. By the time I hit the bottom step, the boys were busily pulling out math books. It also includes juggling Learning to Read, spelling word lists, grammar quizzes, and laundry for a few hours, secure in the knowledge that the two smallest ones were sweetly playing babies in their room. Later I discovered that in the course of the morning they were also skinning a cucumber and feasting on it in the top bunk bed; they were peeling oranges in the living room; they were eating a lot of sliced lunchmeat and graham crackers. For some reason, they still ate salad like starved bunnies with a ranch dressing love affair at lunchtime. One would think there has been naught but bread and water for days if one didn’t distinctly recall feeding them quite often and well.
So yes, naptime: when all efforts of goodness and mischief are suspended for a while. It is my favorite time of day every day when I lie beside my two year old until she falls asleep. Much of the day I am too distracted to listen closely to the piping little voice that is Addy, but at naptime she unwinds by saying every thought that enters her little head until suddenly she conks, just like that. I get much amusement out of her chatter. There are only seconds between each of these bits of confidences.
I like dogs, mama. Do you like dogs?”
Little dogs. Not big dogs. Do you like big dogs?
We just like little dogs, right, Mama?
I have lots of excuses, Mama.
I’m sorry. I’m a little tired in the bed.
Mmmhmm. Me too.
Lollipops are sour, Mama.
But we don’t have any lollipops, do we, Mama?
Maybe I could have some candy when I wake up?
That would be fun.
We don’t have any candy, do we, Mama?
Do you like candy?
You shouldn’t snip yourself. You might get hurt.
And then you would cry. You would cry for a bandaid.
Do you know where the bandaids are, Mama?
When I have a bleeding owie, I cry for a bandaid.
And then I need a Mama.
If I eat too much toothpaste, I might get sick.
Then I would have to go to the doctor. And pump my belly out.
Yeah. Now shhhh.
(Quiet little whisper) I can talk, Mama.
The Bible says be kind to everything. And don’t hit.
And be kind and don’t say “stupid”.
We like little dogs. But we don’t have a dog.
We just have cats.
And a rabbit at Jakes.
But no dogs, Mama.
Am I your baby, Mama?
Be quiet now.
I love you, Mama.
I love you, too. But no more talking.