Naptime

I love nap time. WB has gone to one nap a day, which means that he and SK are finally-FINALLY-napping at the same time.

We lunch, we read, then me and SK give hugkisses. I turn on the quiet music and the white noise machine. He complains about being left alone, I promise to return, and then I take WB into the living room.

After 20 minutes or so, I return to their room to lay the milk-drunk toddler in his bed. I cover him with a quilt made by his great-grandmimiglo, and he clutches his lovey and sucks his thumb for a moment. Then, he breaths a deep sigh of contentment, and the wrinkled thumb slides out of his mouth.

SK is pretending to be asleep, so I sit on the edge of his bed. He reaches out his hand, which I take. I tuck an elephant puppet under his arm, pull the quilt up under his chin, and wait. Soon, his hand goes limp, and his breathing slows.

I do a silent happy dance, then tiptoe out of the room, trying to avoid the squeaky board in the floor. Even though I am tired, I don't want to miss this quiet time to myself. It is so thick around me that I can almost taste it's richness. Silence.