He's a faker
A goodly portion of my posts on this blog have been devoted to my son's apparent sleep disorder. The funny thing is, though we obviously have issues with consistent and uninterrupted nighttime slumbering, he has always been an excellent napper. The even funnier thing is that his napping cues are almost completely invisible to anyone but me, possibly because we share a lot of the same behaviorisms when we're tired. The two of us are a) the world's slowest at waking up from any kind of sleep, and b) able to run 90-to-nothing two seconds before collapsing in a sleep-heap. When we are around other people, inevitably this leads to discussions, or at least looks that say "uh-huh...sure...", from those who don't believe me regarding what's appropriate for him and his trips to the daytime Nod.
Exhibit A: Both sets of grandparents, upon seeing what a groggy, cranky horror he is when waking up in the morning, or even an hour after waking up, often suggest that he looks like he's ready to pass out and I should put him down for a nap. "He's a faker!" I say, and he will suddenly awaken from his illusion-of-sleep glazed-over look and start burning the toddler oil.
Exhibit B: Today we went on a playdate to the home of Isaac's friends Anthony (4) and Carlos (2-1/2), where there is an enormous collection of boy toys, trikes, and things to jump on. Oh my goodness, the delight and the fun of playing with slightly older boys and their toy-avalanches...at times I thought Isaac might keel over from a heart attack. After 2-1/2 hours of screaming with glee and hurling his body this way and that, Isaac was still able to put up the facade that his energy was boundless. Yeah, right. I felt so horrible trying to explain to his buddies' mom that he was ready for a nap as the toddler-monster pushes a trike around me in circles. "He's a faker," I told her. Oh, the horrible wailing as I dragged him away from his buddies (and their toys). But sure enough, 5 minutes into the car ride home he was snoring.
That mommy, sometimes she does know what she's talking about. Sometimes.
Exhibit A: Both sets of grandparents, upon seeing what a groggy, cranky horror he is when waking up in the morning, or even an hour after waking up, often suggest that he looks like he's ready to pass out and I should put him down for a nap. "He's a faker!" I say, and he will suddenly awaken from his illusion-of-sleep glazed-over look and start burning the toddler oil.
Exhibit B: Today we went on a playdate to the home of Isaac's friends Anthony (4) and Carlos (2-1/2), where there is an enormous collection of boy toys, trikes, and things to jump on. Oh my goodness, the delight and the fun of playing with slightly older boys and their toy-avalanches...at times I thought Isaac might keel over from a heart attack. After 2-1/2 hours of screaming with glee and hurling his body this way and that, Isaac was still able to put up the facade that his energy was boundless. Yeah, right. I felt so horrible trying to explain to his buddies' mom that he was ready for a nap as the toddler-monster pushes a trike around me in circles. "He's a faker," I told her. Oh, the horrible wailing as I dragged him away from his buddies (and their toys). But sure enough, 5 minutes into the car ride home he was snoring.
That mommy, sometimes she does know what she's talking about. Sometimes.
posted by Claire at 6:31 PM
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