Luke and I really gotta get on the same nap schedule.
Yes, my four year old still naps. Daily. Oh, he won’t lay down on his own bed at a specific hour everyday and close his eyes, but I can still find him passed out somewhere around the house everyday between 2-4pm. It usually goes something like this:
Hmmmmm…It’s quiet. Too quiet.
“Has anybody seen Luke? Where’s Luke?”
That’s when I go down my checklist of possible comfy places to take a snooze: the couch, my bed, a pile of clean laundry hot from the dryer. Never his own bed, mind you, but someplace out of the way and soft, that’s where Luke’ll be.
The trouble is, he’s not tired when I’m tired.
Luke and I like to curl up on the couch for story time once Dean goes down for his scheduled, premeditated nap. We can get through about 3 picture books and then my eyelids start to droop. In my quasi-delirious state, my tongue starts to form words not in the book at all.
“MOM! Wake up!!”
“I’m awake! Totally awake! See? ‘What Hansel and Gretel didn’t know was theikweljk hcuislf dhioh adsn….'”
“Wake up!” He pats my cheeks in frustration. Sometimes he blows air in my face. “Whoooobbppzzzzzz!!”
“Read it right! Finish the story!”
I’ll rub my eyes and will myself to come to. We eventually finish the story, then another, but before I know it, Dean is up, the dishwasher pings, and the mountain of clean laundry on my bed calls. The phone will ring and I’ll be up and going, doing the million things a young mother does everyday. Our blessed story time his over. My one window for a nap is closed.
But once Dean is back on my hip, I’m off the phone and the dishwasher is empty, I’ll look around and think,
Hmmmm…It’s quiet. Too quiet. “Where’s Luke?”