Having a child is like owning a company with unionized employees. You just never know when they're going to strike.
With babies, it was the nursing strike. With toddlers, the eating strike. With older toddlers, it's the nap strike.
We're flirting with the nap strike here. Y'all know I'm not ready for William to give up his afternoon nap yet. He needs that nap. I need that nap. But William didn't nap on Saturday and barely napped yesterday. I was scared to death that he was going to stay awake all afternoon today, too, especially when he was yelling "come open my door" less than an hour after I closed the door in the first place. Not that he ever settled down and napped during that short time.
So I marshalled my best negotiating skills, preparing to march in there and lay down the law. I walked in and realized that whew! He needed a change. Not in a grand, sweeping Barack Obama way. No, he needed a change in a clean diaper kind of way. Stat. Once that was taken care of, I told him that in no uncertain terms was he allowed to get up yet. And I covered him with his blankie and marched myself outta there.
That was about an hour ago. So far, so good.