24 Minutes

In 13 minutes...

The timer will go off, Max and Ruby will be over, and Owen will have to face the music: It's naptime.

In 14 minutes...

Owen's body will become limp, like a civil rights worker facing the National Guard. He'll moan, "No, Mommy, NOT YET. I don't want to take a nap."

In 15 minutes...

I will have to decide...force or friend? Will I be patient and use words and humor to get Owen upstairs to his room? Or, will I swoop him up and deposit him on his bed like a burlap sack? Since the latter often results in tears, declarations that I "cannot tell [him] what to do" and general asshattery on both our parts, I'm going to attempt the former.

Today, I think I will entice him with the promise that he can bring his newest obsession, "icy things" (aka the ice packs Paul uses for running injuries) into bed with him.

In 16 minutes....

I will see how much Owen feels like stalling today. Will he request a story? Extra prayers? A Bob and Jim story? Today, I'll give him one short story. That's it.

In 17 minutes...

The story will be read, kisses bestowed, and I will close the door and walk downstairs. I will scan the headlines, figure out what I have to do to prepare for class tonight, and consider taking a shower.

In 18 minutes....

Owen will go potty for the first of many times during his "nap." I swear, the boy stockpiles his poo and eeks it out, one nugget at a time, for maximum stalling effect. He knows that he is allowed to leave him room for one reason and one reason only: to go potty. Yes, he knows this for sure.

In 19 minutes...

I will start working, after telling myself that I am not allowed to check Facebook or read blogs or answer emails until I have my lesson complete. Then, I will stop working to check Facebook or read blogs or answer emails.

In 20 minutes...

Owen will call down, "Mommy, is it time for me to come down yet?"

"No," I'll say.

In 21 minutes...

Owen will call down, "Mommy, is it time for me to come down yet?"

I will wonder if it is okay to drink a glass of wine at 2 PM.

In 22 minutes...

Owen will either go to sleep (which would be rare, treasured moment, suitable for writing on the calendar) or he will find something quiet to do in his room. One of the ohmygoodnesssofreakingcute things he does is read stories out loud to himself:

"Then McQueen drove backwards. Good job, McQueen. What's on the next page? Oh! It's Sally. Sally likes Ka-Chow. Good job reading, Owen...."

In 23 minutes...

I will finally relax.

Then, in 24 minutes...

Joel will wake up.

(P.S.---Joel had a great night sleeping last night...only up once, slept in until eight. Y'all must have been praying for me! Thanks!)