Earlier this afternoon, Brady refused to nap. He was exhausted from a busy morning of playing outside, a 6-block walk to the park, and the 85 degree day helped to sap the last ounce of energy from his little body. Yet, he would. Not. Sleep. During Intervention #1, when I went into his room to refill his water cup (“Dis water not cold enough”), I made a choice to try and force him to nap. In my best teacher voice, I insisted he would sleep because his body needed to refuel. Fail.
During Intervention #2, when I flew up the stairs in response to a loud BOOM that I feared was his head meeting the floor after an attempted escape (it was just that cold water cup hitting the wall…), I made another choice: I tried to rock him to sleep. Together, Brady and I swayed back and forth as the gentle breeze from the open window ran its fingers through our hair. Small slits of sunshine danced into the darkened room and it was in those intervals of brightness that I watched our identical hands intertwine. It made me smile and my heart warm. Then Brady announced that he had “crapped his pants.” Fail.
In an attempt to avoid Intervention #3, otherwise known as Mom Losing Her Friggin’ Mind, I just said eff it and let the kid skip his nap. The best choice is rarely the easiest; but sometimes the easiest choice is the best.
Later in the day, I was faced with a series of other choices.
I’m happy to report that my recent trip to the local fruit market has supplied me with enough oranges to garnish an entire case. Success. Happy Friday!