On strike

Amelia is on a napping strike. It started last week and has trickled into this week. Multiple times a day she will tell me

"no nap."

She is obsessed with having fun. I desperately need my down time especially in a house of four little people under the age of 8. I need her to nap like a frat house needs its beer bong. Naps are like crack. I neeeeeed them! It's when I get things done or when I get nothing at all done and sit on ass peacefully! For one whole hour, sometimes two, I get to relax for a moment uninterrupted from the dramatic pleas of two year olds. I love naps. Lehlahni, the little girl I baby-sit for almost always conks out for a nap without a problem as long as she has her two blankets and a pacifier. Amelia is much more challenging. She needs her pillow situated just so and her pink blanket not her purple one, and while I am at it her music box on, and her dog stuffed animal not her doll. While demanding all of these nap time essentials she looks at me like there is something seriously wrong with me. Like how could I have not known that today of all days she must have her black stuffed dog with the red collar. How stupid must I be for thinking her doll would suffice when clearly today she needs her dog! After all of that preparation she makes her way down stairs not 5 minutes after I have turned off her bedroom light. Casually she will say

"hey mom." She always has a cute little innocent smile on, along with that adorable bed tousled hair and will try to charm me with one of her toys by saying "I share with you."

She is one charming little manipulator. When I force her back up to her room there is always a big protest and crocodile tears.


After these little episodes she will take a fake nap for half an hour-45 minutes tops. Afterwards she has a severe case of the grouch. By the time 5 o'clock rolls around she is foaming at the mouth and has sprung a second head. Amelia is not cute without a nap. As result of the nap protest she lost it at the dinner table last night when I handed her a piece of bread instead of salad.

"Salad! Salad! I want salad, Saaaallllllllllllllaaaadddddddddd!!"

Our daughter is a psychopath. After the salad incident there was the shoe one, where I dared to put her shoes on her feet instead of allowing her to do it. Clearly that was the wrong thing to do.

Without her naps the girl is a wreck. At this rate she will be a frightening teen. When I envision my kids as teenagers I break out in a cold sweat. I was the most atrocious punk of a teen. I worry that I will be paid back in full with Amelia. She is two and already my teen years are looking good. I am in for it.