I have been listening to Oliver for near an hour over the static feed of the monitor. He is protesting nap time. Not crying, just chatting up a storm, randomly shouting “Mom, Mom, MOOMMMM!!!” “Dad, dad, DADDDDYYY!!” then he goes through all the animal noises he has in vocabulary, perhaps trying to scare me into responding with a lion “Roar”. Then the drum of his little feet on the head of crib, which from downstairs sounds like the end of time in his room. He is not likely to fool me with that one again, the first time I heard it, I ran in sheer terror to his nursery, sure to find the ceiling had come down.
Ahhh, my little monkey. We are on the cusp of two, and our days are never boring. He takes sheer delight in every discovery, and finds the weirdest things hilarious. No one can coax the full belly giggles out of him like his little brother can. Usually during dinner when I have to stem the urge to stuff food into that wide open giggly mouth. It is wonder Oliver remains so chubby with his serious dislike for mealtime.
It has been an hour of chatting now. If I don’t interrupt Oliver’s monologue, he will not have time to nap before we have to pick up his brother from school, which will result in an afternoon with Prince Charming. Every book I have read is now chiding to me. He needs to fall asleep on his own. I know.
I surrender and open the door to his nursery and am greeted with an enthusiastic “Hiiiii!” He has been waiting for me, the stinker. I pick him up and wrap in his blanket, we sit in the nursery chair together. Still and quiet. I usually keep my eyes closed so I don’t send the message this is play time, but he is making weird forced nasal breathing noises, so I peek one eye open to see what is up.
I find two huge, rounds eyes twinkling up at me and he flashes me the biggest grin. I bite my lip and look away quickly, cause I am sure I am going to laugh. Oliver just told me. “I win.” He is asleep in five minutes, I savour the moment for another ten. Stinker.