Upon their third birthday, children seem to enter some sort of anti-nap vortex, wherein even though everyone with half a brain, child included, realizes they NEED a nap, they do everything in their power to resist the evil nap. It's as though turning three also instantly changes all their blankets and teddy bears to monsters to be vanquished through the powers of nap resistance. And all the grown-ups who have unwillingly entered this evil vortex with the child are slowly driven insane.
That's the world I'm living in right now.
Actually, scratch that. I'm in a special anti-nap vortex wherein the grown-ups involved are all QUICKLY driven to a point of such insanity that stabbing their eyes out with an icepick and setting themselves on fire, thus ensuring a long recovery in a burn unit, sounds far more appealing than continuing the Epic Nap Battle.
Don't worry, I'm not in a burn unit. Yet.
It could honestly be any day now. I'm thinking about buying gasoline... and not for my car.
"Why?" you might ask, if in fact you have never visited this particular Vortex of Doom.
Well... let me see if I can illustrate this for you with a friendly timeline. A friendly timeline of a completely fictional day in the life of a completely fictional person who knows a completely fictional three-year-old named... *tries to think of something non-offensive* Hmm. Maybe it should be Biblical. What were Job's kids' names?
I looked it up. One of them was named Ophlf. Which sounds like a sound I might make while on fire. So that's it. Also, this Job dude had a lot of kids. No wonder the guy was tormented... I bet he spent YEARS in the Vortex of Doom.
So, timeline. Here we go. Get ready. It won't be funny, I promise.
12:00 - Ophlf (gosh, that's hard to type) eats lunch. This goes fine.
12:30 - Ophlf goes potty. This is starting to sound like a children's board book.
12:45 - Ophlf is put in his bed, read a story, and tucked in with all four of his stuffed animals. If the previous day's events are repeated, Ophlf will fall asleep right away and sleep for hours. "Wow," you're probably thinking, "that doesn't sound like the sort of thing that happens in the Vortex!" But you're wrong, because it does. Why? Because little Ophlf likes to keep us guessing. Some days, you gear up in your battle armor only to find out that the opposing army only wants tea and crumpets. Other days, you set aside the armor and let your noble steed go for a romp in the field, and the army sneak-attacks you because you got complacent. They're not a nice army.
12:50 - Ophlf is singing. OK, that's cute enough, little Ophlf is singing himself to sleep!
12:55 - Ophlf has confused singing with yelling. Unpleasant.
1:15 - Still yelling. You ignore the yelling in hopes that Ophlf will tire himself out and fall asleep.
1:20 - Ophlf has now started doing amateur gymnastics on his bed. You again resist the urge to go up there, because it usually only makes things worse. That is how three-year-olds work. They are extremely counterintuitive.
1:35 - Ophlf has turned his light on and is now cheesing for the video monitor in his room, while making loud, sudden noises that frighten any animals within a six mile radius. Time to go up there. *You do.* Ophlf looks jubilant that his attempts at getting you back in his room have finally succeeded. You mentally start pricing how much gasoline it would take to soak your own body. As you go back downstairs, with the light off and one teddy bear gone, Ophlf is cheerily fake-snoring while huddled in some sort of weird yoga-ish bear-type pose. You tell yourself that you are not going back up there for at least another 15 minutes.
1:45 - Waving a teddy bear in front of the monitor, kicking the bedrail away from his mattress, all in the midst of jubilant screeches. Has it been 15 minutes yet?
1:50 - Steadfastly refusing to speak to him and give any sort of reward for the behavior, you return to Ophlf's room. It reeks. Oh, the old poop-during-naptime trick... you know it all too well. You complete the disgusting job without so much as a word, then return him to his bed. Another teddy bear gone.
2:00 - Bedrail overturned, Ophlf on top. Pointy metal things sticking up in the air just waiting for an amateur gymnast to fall on them. Go back up there. Another bear.
2:15 - Well, it's not his bed, but Ophlf is actually lying still... on the floor where he kicked the bed rail away. You opt for as little intervention as possible and stay away.
2:30 - Check the monitor. No Ophlf. Thumping continues. This can't be good. Go up there. There he is. Right under the video monitor, repeatedly throwing a book and his last teddy bear against the wall. Book and bear gone, you just barely manage to hold your temper. When you try to put Ophlf back in bed with his blanket, he kicks it off and begins to whine and cry. Despite whining and crying usually being negative things to see in a child, you feel just a little bit accomplished. Maybe you are finally making an impression on little Ophlf. This time, when you go back downstairs, you steadfastly refuse to look at the monitor or return to the room. For the safety and sanity of all.
2:50 - Thumping continues. Refuse to care. Start wondering where the matches are. Will one match do it? If not, will you, minorly burned, be able to light another in order to ensure a good long time in the burn unit? Should you stuff your pockets with dryer lint to fuel the ignition further?
2:55 - Ophlf is standing at the gate on his bedroom door (you can hear him). Shouting for anyone/everyone he knows. Deep down, you know that the nap battle will be lost today. You wonder if your Giant Eagle Fuel Perks can be used on gasoline meant for self-dousing.
3:15 - Check the video monitor. It's been too quiet. There's little Ophlf, emptying out his carefully folded clothes from the dresser drawers onto the floor. Resist urge to bang head against wall. Go upstairs, tell Ophlf that he is getting a time out after nap time, and that he will help you pick up the clothes. Close door, because you know this makes an impression on Ophlf. He is not scared, he's just mad that the 'yelling at the gate' option has been removed.
3:30 - Ophlf puts two and two together and realizes he can open the door. You can tell by the (far too audible) gleeful laughter. Go back upstairs and close it. This time, remain outside the door. Commence temper tantrum.
3:45 - Temper tantrum still raging. Realizing that Ophlf has been up there three hours now, and that you should've probably given up an hour ago (but who wants to give up right when they think they might be getting through to the kid?), wait for a lull in the tantrum and then enter the room.
Ophlf wins. No nap today. Thinking about it, you're pretty sure there's a Shell station down the street. Oh well. At least the burn unit will be an improvement over this day.
This is why I pat backs. ;) Yes, I know it doesn't encourage them to fall asleep on their own...but it saves your sanity! =P
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