It’s one pm, time for nap, says mama to her baby. Just like all the other days in the past 21 months: change diaper, have some milk, turn on fan, get cozy, go night-night.

So all of that went down EXCEPT the night-night part.

We think we have at least two hours to ourselves, like usual.

We drop heavy on the couch and happily tune into the Rob whatever show (Fantasy warehouse experience), we love this show. Why do I feel like an old lady saying the word “show”? Am I using the word “soda pop” and I don’t know it?

Fifteen minutes later, guess who comes walking out, carrying a chair from his room- yes, it was baby.

Several attempts to lay him down lead down a road to nowhere.

I think we were both in denial that he was still awake.

Or maybe just really internally adamant that we deserved these two hours.

I just know that some sort of switch went OFF and we were not parents.

Now that my switch is back on, I think we went to some faraway adult land and just ignored him.

What’s funny is he ignored us too. I think he knew he was somewhere he shouldn’t be- he was getting a sneak peek into life during nap time, and he was “invisible”. He played by himself, sat on the couch with us and watched TV quietly (can’t pay him to watch TV during normal business hours), he even pushed the empty swing, as if he had a friend, who really likes to swing, over.

Now I know what he can do.

His bed is about to resemble a monkey cage.
“I want my two (hours) dollars!”
(Better Off Dead, it’s time to see that again)