|Post-tantrum nap. Awww.|
|Sleeping in style.|
Oh, there have been days where I thought about putting him in a perma-timeout, like the time (while potty training) he decided to take a dump in our deck box rather than in the toilet. Or, there was the time he threw a 45-minute, knock-down, drag-out tantrum in Meijer (at 7 am, mind you). But, on those days, no timeout is going to cut it. I need him to sleep - for a very long time. I need a good 8 - 10 hours to recharge my emotional battery and just enjoy some peace and quiet (minus the dog snoring. Seriously, dog for sale!) and not have to worry about what he's getting into that he's not supposed to or what he's destroying. It's not just the sleeping I need him to do, though. I need that glimpse of my sweet, innocent, precious little boy that always appears when he's far off in dreamland to remind me that my child is not the devil's spawn (despite overwhelming evidence to the contrary).
|Drooling on the iPad|
Let's face it, kids are adorable when they sleep. They're all peaceful and innocent . . . and silent and still and not breaking things and not clinging to my leg and not crying because they want a Poptart that they always get themselves but they want you to get it for them this time because they just want you to. They look like little angels (contrary to their behavior from earlier in the day), and they almost make you forget how awful they were earlier. Almost. Luckily, it's just enough to prevent you from going primal on them and devouring them like an angry lion tearing the flesh from a freshly killed gazelle (A little too graphic, huh? Sorry.). So, there is my theory on why we don't eat our young. I'm pretty sure this will be verified in some highly-respected science journal in no time at all.