Earlier this week, one of my girlfriends came over for lunch and a chat – she brought McDonald’s (because that’s just how ladies-who-lunch do, yo!) and I’d just put Ava Scarlett to bed for a nap about thirty minutes prior, but I could still hear the little demon making noises. Chatting with the devil and making deals, I guessed. Her horns get rather pointy when she doesn’t sleep enough. Fortunately (for her) this is rare.
Naptime isn’t usually an issue for us. Like I did with her brother, sometime around 12:45 PM I change her diaper, all the while telling her that it’s time for a sleep, and that I’ll see her in a little while, and I just chuck her into her crib, cover her up, and say “sleep well” while closing the doors behind me. That’s it. Sometimes I can hear her singing and chatting away to herself… and then, after a while… silence. On days when the clock’s hands are creeping closer to 2 PM and I can still here her talking in there, I stand outside her door and say, “Ava Scarlett? It’s time for sleep now. Ssshhhh!! Sleep.” And I walk away again. I hear nothing again until I have to wake her from a deep slumber forty-five minutes later, wherein I throw a coat and hat on her and chuck her into the stroller, so we can collect her brother from school before 3 PM.
Normally, this scenario doesn’t waver much.
Though on this day, soon after my friend and I are tucking into our salty, greasy cheeseburgers and fries, cackling to ourselves, and trying to cram months of conversation into a too-short time slot, my friend stops talking mid-sentence, and peers curiously into the hallway. I hear it too. Footsteps. Footsteps that do not belong to our dog, Charley.
I lean forward in from my seat in front of the fire, to have a look too. A short person has emerged. What the fuck? How did you…? When did…? What?!
“Madame! WHAT are you doing out of bed?” And more to the point, HOW exactly did she do it?! I was confused.
The worst part was she just kinda sauntered into the room, had a little look around… glanced at our lunch and said, “Oh! Freh fries!!”
“Yes, but these are not for you, my darling. It’s time for you to have a nap. Come on… let’s go back.”
She starts walking away from me, eyeballing me up and down, like I’m short. Scowling at me a little.
I mean, really.
My friend was as dumbfounded as I was, and was trying really hard not to laugh. She has three kids of her own. She knows about shit hitting fans.
I put her firmly back into her crib, telling her that she really must stay put, please, until I come to get her.
Of course, less than 15 minutes later, she emerged once more, though this time as I glowered at her audacity entering kitchen (and fucking up my lunch date – the nerve!) she wandered over to me with her head cocked to the side, and down a little bit… and sidled up to me. “Hi mah-mee.” She leaned her head against my arm, and put her thumb in her mouth.
I scooped her up and put her on my lap. We had to leave for pick-up in about twenty minutes anyway.
I fast-forwarded in my head about how the rest of the day might play out with The Napless Wonder, and then chided myself and decided to go with the flow. I bet she’d sleep like a brick come bedtime anyway. Clearly, I had no control over this situation, so why break my head about it? Make like a duck, and let this stuff just roll off. No heart-attack today.
She did sleep like a brick that night. Same as every night. Though after two worry-free days, she made her escape again today. Twice. I was on the phone with a friend from New York – whom I almost NEVER get to speak to… so, of course she was up. Twice.
I think I’ll order that straightjacket I saw online… until it gets here? Duct tape and punches.