The same routine, attempted at nap time, achieves all the same results except the silence. Once, after an hour, he agreed to "go to sleep", dozed for precisely 3 minutes, and then declared nap time over.
Time to give up naps? In fact, William only has a nap about every other day, when I determine that he really needs it. Some indications that William needs a nap:
- He has 2 or more meltdowns in the span of five minutes.
- He hits me, or Jadzia. Or he hits me because I caught him hitting Jadzia.
- With no prompting whatsoever, he says "Mommy I'm not very tired right now."
- I observe him taking thirty-second cat-naps on his tricycle, train table, or on the floor.
- He asks me to read him ten stories in a row.
- He becomes slightly more demanding than usual.
- He giggles like an insane-asylum inmate.
- He throws his toys.
- He demands television, and a glass of milk.
- His listening drops from around 40% to -50% (the negative meaning he actively does the opposite of what I'm asking).
Now I don't even bother lying, or timing my outtings for that matter. If we're sitting at home, and it looks like he needs a nap, I'll say "I'm going to put you in the car and we'll drive until you fall asleep." Why not? If he had any power against the magic sleeping spell of the back seat, then it wouldn't work whether I lied or not. Of course he fights me, but he still sleeps.
Today, I was driving around the neighbourhood, feeling like a failure because I didn't have a better nap time routine for my son, and because I don't command enough respect to prevent him from hitting me as I put him in his carseat. Instead of driving around the block, I drove straight up Brant Street (past where it's still called Brant Street) into farm country. As William began to nod, I saw a blue heron fly by. As Jadzia started to look drowsy I turned around.
There in front of me was the entire city of Burlington, looking clean and new in the sunlight, and Lake Ontario beyond reflecting the brilliant Mediterranean blue of the clear sky.