Rich didn’t sleep before church. The sadder part is that he was in his crib for “nap time” for almost two hours before we finally took him out and fed him lunch. We just kept thinking, “Maybe he’ll fall asleep soon and get some kind of nap, however short.” So lunch it was. And then rush to church it was.
This morning at home and then again during sacrament meeting, Rich asked for “nursery.” I kept telling him nursery was later. On our way down the hall to nursery, he said it again. “Nursery.” He was very happy to be there.
On our way home, Rich and I talked for a bit. I figured I’d say some pretty complicated things to him so he would have to concentrate too hard and would consequently fall asleep. (Weird plan, I admit, but you just never know what will work.) But for the last few minutes of the ride, I said nothing. Neither of us did. On our way up the driveway, I caught a glance back at him. He was drifting, one eye closed, the other eye half-closed. As soon as we pulled into the garage, I looked back to see if he was close enough that he might go down for a nap. Just as I looked, I saw that one half-closed eye, and then those classic words escaped his mouth. Those words he says about one in three times when we return home from something. “We’re hoooooooome. We did iiiiit,” Rich said in an increasingly soft voice, drawing out the “o” and the “i” more than he normally does. As soon as he finished the word “it,” he was gone. His one eye closed all the way, and he rested at last.
I had to keep from laughing. The boy usually says, “We’re home! We did it!”, but this time it was like it was the last thing he needed to do before he could retire. I quietly removed him from his car seat and carried him upstairs for a comfortable nap in his cool bedroom (courtesy of the rainy weather).
