After walking to Highland Fest this weekend in 90-degree heat, the boys were shot. Done. Spent. Over. Whining, crying, oh-so-not-fun-bundles of boyness.
I pushed, nudged and encouraged them back up to the hill.
For the sanity of all of us, I informed the boys that there would be naps.
Eli didn't fight me. In fact, he promptly tipped over at the table.
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No worries. I moved him to his bed.
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Noah got it, too. And marched up to bed. And was out within minutes.
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Caleb not so much. He fought it. He protested. He stood his ground and refused to get in his bed.
He marched downstairs three times to try telling me that he had already slept and when I didn't buy that, would tell me that he wasn't tired. As he stomped marched away he shot back,
I will not get in my bed!
And I went upstairs 20 minutes later to find this.
Okay, buddy, you win. You proved your point. You didn't get in your bed.
But you did take a lovely two hour nap on the floor.
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Mom wins afterall. |
