I am craving a nap like a junkie
needs a hit. Daylight savings is kicking my a$$. The Dynamic Duo? Not so much.
The 9 year old is practicing her recorder. Loudly. The 7 year old is writing in her diary and
drawing mean pictures of her sister, a fact that hasn’t been discovered yet by
the injured party.
These things just make my need
for a nap that much greater. The need is coursing through my body. I can almost
feel the way my dopamine levels will soar after that sweet slumber hits. But first a
negotiation must be brokered.
“Mommy’s going to take a nap. I
don’t want to be disturbed unless there’s vomit or blood,” I say.
“What about a twisted ankle?”
queries the 7 year old.
“No,” I respond.
“What about a growing pain?”
asks the 9 year old.
No.
“What about…”
I cut them off, “Vomitting or
blood. That’s it.”
“Okay,” they agree.
I am elated and race up the
stairs, which is when I hear the 7 year old ask her sister, “What’s vomitting?”
There is no answer. Only the
off-key, recorder notes of “Amazing Grace”, which I'm taking as a good sign.
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