The thing about having young children when you're "old," is that it makes you feel, well...old. I was comparing notes about with my Dear Mom the other day about strategies to get Dear Son (Dear Grandson to her) to go to his crib for a nap. It didn't dawn on me until I described the routine to my mother that I sound "old."
Lunch time is always right before nap time. Dear Son calls it "bret-ast" (breakfast) because for some reason he's begun to call every meal and snack "bret-ast." It seems like it would be easier to say "lunch" than "breakfast," but that's the way he does things. So following "bret-ast" it takes several minutes to wipe him down and clean up the aftermath. I've often envisioned putting his highchair on wheels and then simply wheeling him out to the deck following "bret-ast" and hosing him down with the garden hose. I've yet to actually try it.
Then comes the changing of the britches--not entirely unlike the Changing of the Guard--in which a dirty diaper is relieved by a clean one. It also has ceremonial undertones and requires elaborately choreographed moves on my part to complete the task at hand while Dear Son does his wiggle and twist and stand routine. Usually the diaper ends up on the correct end by the time it's done.
Next are "stories." This is the part where Son requires me to lie down on the floor with him on a big pillow while we read. As soon as one story is over he leaps to his feet and heads to the bookcase while saying, "Stories! Stories!" which really means, "Don't you even think about turning that light out and putting me in my crib!" After a generous amount of reading time I turn out the light and put on the white noise machine and lie back down on the pillow on the floor. Son typically snuggles up next to me at this point for about 30 seconds before he's up on his feet exploring the toys in his bedroom.
This is the point in the original conversation with my mother that I decided that I sound old. The dimly lit room and buzz of the white noise machine just lulls me to sleep. I always end up snoring for about 20 minutes on the floor before Son's jabbering cuts through my semi-conscious state and awakens me. I force my eyes open while longing to be the one that gets to take the begrudged nap instead of him. Amazing how this routine always works for me, but never quite does it for him.