An Aside: Napping with a Toddler

Trying to take a nap with Gregory, because he claims he is tired too and wants to sleep in bed with me. Which has never, ever successfully happened.
(Boris [our cat] hops into bed)
Gregory: Ehhh! Ehhh! Ehhhh! I don’t want him to scratch me!
M: He’s not going to scratch you!
G: He has scratchy feet!
M: I know, he has claws, but all he wants right now is me.
G: He has scratchy feet.
M: I know. Go to sleep.
(pause)
G: Did you close the door?
M: No.
G: Because you don’t want Tia [beloved nanny] to come in?
M: No, I DIDN’T close the door, because I want Boris to be able to come and go.
G: (thoughtfully) Oh.
(pause, with quiet singing)
G: Mommy?
M: Yes?
G: I want milk.
M: Then go get some.
G: I’mma call Tia. TIA!!!!
m: No! Don’t shout! I’m trying to sleep and your brother’s trying to sleep! Go downstairs and ask. Nicely!
G: Okay. (climbing out of bed) Then I’m coming back here.
M: (sighing) Okay. Remember, don’t shout.
G: Okay. (halfway downstairs) TIA!!!!!!!
(painfully brief pause where I start to fall asleep, followed by trundling little footsteps. I open my eyes just as he’s rounding the bed, milk held triumphantly over his head)
G: I got milk. (climbing into bed and lying down)
M: I see that. It’s not going to work that way. (it’s a straw cup)
(a five-minute dialogue about which way the cup will and will not work, including me taking apart the cap)
M: Okay now drink your milk and be quiet. I need to nap.
G: Okay.
(very, VERY loud milk guzzling. Boris snuggles into my tummy)
G: (something unintelligible but at full conversation volume regarding Boris’ feet, and giggling)
M: Greg! I am trying to sleep! Be quiet!
G: (indignant) I was talking to Boris!
M: Go to sleep!
(pause)
G: (now whispering something to Boris, again about his feet)
M: GREG!
G: I was being quiet!
M: Don’t you think you should go downstairs and play with Tia?
G: No! I am still tired! (again tries to lie down with milk cup)
M: It’s not going to work that way.
(some quiet singing, which I honestly thought I could fall asleep to, then petting my arm. Then squeezing my arm. Then patting my arm quite roughly)
M: YES?
G: I was just petting you.
M: Don’t you think you’d be happier downstairs?
G: NO! (he’s now finished his milk) I’m still tired!
M: Then go to sleep!
G: (tries to lie down several times, hitting his head on the headboard each time, though not complaining)
At some point, somehow, after fully 50 minutes of this, I convinced him to go downstairs.
Lesson: Don’t get cancer if you have toddlers.

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