Well. I guess it had to happen sometime.
DorkySon has finally given up his afternoon nap.
I blogged a few months ago and said that I thought it was on the cards, so I was making the most of the post nap snuggles that he was still lavishing on me.
But now we are done.
In the long term, it’s going to be a very good thing. It will mean that we can go out to lunch without stressing about getting home in time for a snooze. It will mean much more flexibility on days out. It already means that he is going to bed earlier and falling asleep almost immediately.
But at the moment we are in a transition phase, where he is not so tired that he needs to nap, but is too tired to do anything requiring much energy or concentration in the afternoon.
By 2.30 or 3pm, the eye rubbing has started. He is still quite bouncy, but much clumsier than usual. His moods are very fragile – there has been more grumpiness, more cheekiness and a lot more tears than we are used to from our sunny wee boy. So we are spending a lot of time under blankets on the sofa, reading books, watching CBeebies and playing games on the iPad. It is no great hardship given how cold it is outside at the moment, but it makes me very glad that he reached this stage now rather than last summer.
The other thing I’ve noticed is that it makes the day feel a LOT longer when there’s no nap. It seems to have shifted our whole timetable. On the days when he’s not at nursery in the morning, he’s asking for lunch by 11, and enquiring about dinner by 3. When DorkyDad has been away travelling, the temptation to stick DorkySon in bed at 4.30 and sink into the sofa with a large glass of wine has been very tempting. I have resisted. Mostly.
There will be exceptions. He napped on holiday, when he was more active than usual and the time difference had already whacked our routine. The motion of a train or car can still lull him to sleep, and he can occasionally be persuaded to take an hour’s snooze on a Sunday if DorkyDad and I promise to do the same.
But, for the most part, naps in this house have been consigned to the same drawer as the baby gros, cot bars and sippy cups.
It’s an ever-expanding drawer, marked “Big boy now. No longer needed.”