I tucked-in Ari for his nap about 15 minutes later than usual. No biggie. That often happens on weekends.
Sensing that he’d be back, I laid down in my bed for a bit to read a novel. 15 minutes later, my intuition was proven correct. Ari found me in my room to discuss going to the bathroom. Once that was settled, I tucked him back into bed, kissed him “good nap,” and closed his bedroom door.
I checked on Isabelle, who was reading in her room. I decided to stretch in our exercise room. Another 15 minutes passed and Isabelle came into my room to ask for her iPad to reserve some books from the library. After a quick chat, we decided we’d finish El Deafo, which we’ve been reading together before bedtime. But, moments after she got the graphic novel from her room, a blond boy appeared and declared, “I don’t feel well.”

“What hurts?” I asked.
“I just don’t feel well,” Ari replied.
“Does your tummy hurt?” I asked.
“No!”
“Go back to bed and I’ll be in momentarily.”
Ari toddled back to his room. Isabelle and I made a plan to read El Deafo as soon as I got Ari down for his nap — again.
JUST IN CASE something was wrong, I decided to take Ari’s temperature. It was 98.7. Practically normal. He was fine (as I suspected).
“Do you think you don’t feel well because you ate a lot at lunchtime?”
“Maybe…” he replied.
“Probably,” I said. “You ate a sandwich, chips, and a LOT of fruit. Anyway, I’ll see you at four,” I said as I kissed his silken hair and pulled his quilt up to his shoulders.
Somewhere in the middle of the final chapter of El Deafo, Isabelle and I had a visitor.
“My animals are keeping me awake!” Ari declared.
“AR-EEEEEE!” Isabelle declared.
I had about no patience left so I replied with the only kind words I could muster. “Bring them in here and go back to bed.”
“Jeez, I can’t believe him,” Isabelle replied.
“Neither can I!” I said as he hurled multiple stuffies at the bed.
“Can you tuck yourself back in?” I asked him.
“Yes,” he replied.
“Good!” I said under my breath.
Once we finished reading El Deafo and talking about the book’s theme (That’s what happens when your mom is a literacy specialist.), Isabelle went downstairs to do some art. I walked into the exercise room to attempt a workout. No sooner did I have my workout gloves on did I have a visitor.
“What’s happening now?” I asked.
“I’m hot in my room.”
“Well, you are wearing long sleeves and long pants,” I replied. “Maybe you should consider a short-sleeve shirt.”
“I don’t want to wear a short-sleeve shirt,” Ari said.
“Well,” I said marching him back to his bedroom, “I’ll help you pick one out and put one on. That’s what happens when you’re warm. You change into cooler clothes.”
There were about three more back-and-forths before nap time was officially over at four. Despite feeling frustrated, I managed to keep my voice from raising. BUT, when Ari’s earlier bedtime came this evening and Ari started telling me, “The rain is too loud for me to go to bed,” I insisted he go to bed. He started to moan, but I stood my ground. I told him his body required a certain number of hours of sleep per day, kissed him good night, and sent him on his way with Marc.

