Bubbles

So I’m trying to get Dane to take his nap. This is the second intrusion from a parental unit, as he was walking circles around his bed, and just wouldn’t go to sleep. In his defense, he did have to pee-pee, on the potty of course. (Note to self; Don’t take children to Toys R Us to look for toys from Santa and for Christmas.)

Our conversation went something like this:
Dane “Santa is coming with Kevin and Belle after your nap.”
Daddy “Christmas isn’t until December. That’s in a few months.”
Dane “You’ve been a good boy!”
Daddy “Yes Dane, you’ve been a good boy, but Santa comes for Christmas, so you have to make good choices until then.”
Dane “Dane’s going to be a good boy and get Kevin and Belle from Santa after your nap.”

At this point, acceptance just set in, and a battle was picked, not this one.

To frame the encounter, Dane had exclaimed, for the entire hour or so that we were in Toys R Us, “I want Kevin and Belle”. He literally said this 50 times plus. Patience, intestinal fortitude, grit, all traits that somehow are super-infused into parents upon the birth-date of their children. How does ole’ Yahweh do it?

In addition to the previous hi-jinx, Dane’s crawling over me in the bed, as I’m trying to get him to nap. He gets to the bottom of the bed and is laying on my legs to exclaim:
Dane “What are you doing to me?”
Daddy “What’s the matter Dane?”
Dane “What are you doing to me? What are you doing to me? What are you doing to me?
Daddy “Get up here and take your nap or Santa won’t check your list as a good boy.”
Dane “Don’t turn that page. Don’t turn the page.”
Daddy Hysterical laughing under my breath that eventually turn to tears after his next line. You know it…
Dane “There’s a monster at the end of the book Daddy!”

Here I am trying to get the kid to take his nap, and I’m crying in his bead laughing hysterically. Needless to say, I’m watching him roll around on the monitor as I type this. Life is good!!!

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