I’ve heard from some parents that their kids stopped taking naps at two or three years of age. I feel sorry for these people because (knock on wood), naptime is still a sacred ritual in the barn. Round about 2:00pm, Robbi and I make a strongly worded (yet loving and gentle) suggestion that the time has come for slumber. There is occasional resistance, but always short-lived. They nap. We recuperate. Everyone is happy.
Alden, as she grows, seems bent on returning the favor. Since she lacks the station and power to force Robbi and me to take a nap, she has invoked surrogates. Her “babies” don’t get to sleep on the bed, mind you, but they do get tucked in with utmost care.
Just now I was shushed as I walked down the hallway. Apparently, I was walking too noisily. Who am I to disturb a nap? May Alden’s reprieve from the demands of her small charges be just as sweet as my own.