I spoke too soon. If you have read my previous posts would might have come across a blog posting that boasted of my absolute mastery of getting kids to take naps. I still follow all of my steps, but I might get one nap a week if I am lucky. Now I get an hour of listening to them play together and then I go into their room to find every toy, blanket, and pair of shoes that can possibly fit on the floor and two kids who are triumphant in their ability to wait me out.
A few days ago, the day we had been afraid of arrived. I put them in their room for a nap and returned an hour later to find chalk handprints all over the hallway walls and an empty crib. The Tomboy was surprised to see me.
"Where is the bulldozer?"
"She got out."
"I can see that. Where is she?" It was then that the two year old Bulldozer with chalked hands jumps out from the closet door and yells.
"I get out! I get out!"
"How did you get out." It was then that the Tomboy tries to climb over the railing of her sister's crib to show me.
"Like this Daddy."
In short, this posting is to officially relinquish my title of Master of Naps. Maybe I can be the Master of Putting Toy Story in the DVD player now.
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