Thoughtful Little Things: Nap Time

Thoughtful Little Things 06

Nap time

transitioning baby naps from two naps to one baby walking toddler walking looking at walls Montessori toddler life toddler life leopard print shoes

Jude has transitioned from two naps to one glorious long sleep in the afternoon. I am almost reluctant to write about it, for fear I may jinx it, but he is slowly revealing himself to be a more steadfast sleeper now. I pray the act of my writing of it shan’t break that spell.

He is asleep right now, as I type. He falls asleep on his tummy, listening to the sound of the ocean. On seaside holidays, we gently tease him, asking if he wants to go to sleep the very moment he hears the roll of the waves. I picture the tip of his little smudge of a sleepy nose dusty with sand, like powdered sugar sprinkled on a cake.

This nap signifies two, great things and I am exceedingly grateful for both. One, a chance to do something with him in the morning. We are no longer housebound by that tricky morning snooze. He is older now and so can stay awake until midday, which means I get the honour of his company. We rub noses, we play, we run errands. We walk, hand-in-hand and free from the buggy at the pace of a terribly slow snail.

I rather like it. A walk for Jude is a half-hour enchantment of all sorts of things, furry moss and fallen leaves and reaching out to trace bricks on a wall. He barks at dogs and shouts with glee in the direction of small children who, I suppose, remind him of the shape and size of his big brothers. Other mornings, he sits tall in his pushchair, and listens to songs and stories in the bookshop or the park with other people of his size, while I order myself a cup of hot tea.

Second, this nap means a chance for me to be alone while he sleeps. A chance to think, to write, to tidy up and plan and do all the things that need to be done. It’s a rarity, this alone time, so I take great pleasure in it. My tea, set just so on my desk. My diary and notebook beside me, each open. A little time. It is, I imagine, the same satisfaction as that of a cat licking cream curled up in the autumn sun.

Read the rest of my Thoughtful Little Things series, a collection of short reflections on the simplest of things for which I am grateful.