We had a glorious morning, Dad entertaining the girls and eliciting the peals of laughter that make the walls wend inward ever so slightly as if to take the joy in to the very marrow of the house, Mom slept in, the sounds from below caressing her, and then later, the living room drenched in mid-morning sun reflected off the still impressive snow banks, we frolicked. Laughter, conversation and overriding parental pride. It was a perfect Sunday morning.
Enter nap time.
Dancing eyes quickly became murderous glares. Giggles and whispers became screeches and screams. Feet stomping, lungs pumping and indignation swirling, Avery refused to sleep. Briar served as line judge, declaring the latest protest and act of nap time rebellion with a a voice that seemed hard to believe was not amplified by megaphone and a stadium sound system.
“AVERY IS NOT SLEEPING.”
“SHE IS BANGIN’ DA WALL.”
“AVERY IS SAYING ‘NO, NO, NO TO DAD AGAIN.”
“SHE IS BEING A BAAAAAD GIRL.”
The explosion lasted 10 minutes, after which reserves were sent in, more tactics were employed and the announcer called:
“AVERY STILL IS NOT SLEEPING. SHE IS NOT GOING DOWN.” “Not without a fight,” we shared silently through a look.
We held up a good front, but when all was said and done, the best strategy was one of inspired acquiescence. Exhausted with repentance welling in her eyes, Avery’s head collapsed in my lap, I caught Sean mouthing, “Go ahead and rock her,” and I did. She was asleep before I’d had my fill, Briar’s head popped up and she smiled before slipping under her covers and rolling toward the wall and sleep.
It is perhaps not the way the books would have us do it, but nap time is something that defies logic and, though it has its merits, is something I will one day rejoice in no longer having to enforce.