Sunday Naps

I used to think I like to nap, and then I met my husband. The man could sleep four hours straight in the middle of the afternoon and still want to go to bed early. After an hour, or maybe an hour and a half, I usually get bored. I find myself wanting to poke him repeatedly until he wakes up, and then pretend it wasn't me. "No, honey," I would say, "I was sleeping. You woke ME up." He would never fall for it, though. I'm just not sneaky enough.


On Sundays, we usually all take a nap at the same time. Lizzy often falls asleep on the walk home from church, so we dump (I mean gently place) her in her crib and then head off to join her in dreamland. She always wakes up first. After a quick round of rock-paper-scissors to see who has to get up with her, the lucky parent snuggles back in to sleep until the noise from the living room no longer makes snoozing possible. Today, Isaac lost the rock-paper-scissors. Initially, there were sounds of intense disgruntlement from the living room. Apparently, Lizzy was not too pleased with the world. After awhile it got quiet . . . too quiet. When I could no longer ignore the strange silence, I set off to find my usually boisterous family. This is what I found:

He CHEATED. He made her go back to sleep so the he could continue to nap. Isn't that rotten? Or - is it genius? We do like our Sunday naps. . . . (This picture doesn't actually show how cute they were. This is after she started squirming and waking up. But you get the idea.)