Baby B's naptime is at 1:30 pm every day. But Baby B doesn't always want a nap. Thing is, he NEEDS a nap. If he doesn't get his nap, he conks out too late for a nap and too early for a night of sleep. Or he turns into the exorcist child by 7 pm. Take your pick. Yeah, none of them are too attractive.
Yesterday, Simone put Baby B down at the appointed time. Baby B was not impressed. He sang songs, hit the walls around his crib and generally raised mayhem. At 3 pm, Simone gave up and went to get Baby B. Simone means it when she says it's naptime!
First, the smell hit her hard. The room smelled like what comes out of one's bowels after one has ingested something one shouldn't have. No wonder Baby B couldn't sleep.
Secondly, Baby B's crib was empty of its usual contents, save for the bottom sheet. Gone were the books, stuffed animals, toys, blankets and even the pillow.
Gone was Baby B.
Baby B was instead perched on his Thomas the Tank train table with Simone's very real golf putter. He was busy gently hammering the track pieces together.
"Nan!" said Baby B happily upon spying Simone's entrance.
Simone struggled unsuccessfully to put a stern expression on her face. To no avail. Simone giggled helplessly.
She changed Baby B's diaper, convinced him it was in his best interest to clean up his toys and generally gave up on making the child nap.
Writing's gonna be tough with no free time though...
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