Of Little Boys and Lumpy Pillows

I know it seems I talk about my children all the time, and you're probably thinking, "this woman has no life," but there is so much material here, I just have to share it.

I have said before that Superhero is a ball of super kinetic energy. He seems to sizzle and spark if left standing in one place too long. One thing he cannot tolerate is "quiet time."

Yes, quiet time. That blessed event that happens here rain or shine, day in, day out, 365 days a year.

Well, mostly.

Every day at my house from 2-4 p.m., I have the children go to quiet time. I don't care whether they nap or not (at least the oldest ones) but they must be quiet, or incur my wrath. And I'm serious. This is the only time of peace I get all day, and I'm gonna enjoy it, even if it kills me!!

So, since Superhero has a hard time with the "quiet" part of quiet time, I try to give him specific directions of what he can do. He can read (yes, my five-year-old is reading... a little), color in his coloring books, lay down, or play with his cars, etc. until 4 o'clock.

Sometimes it works well, other times... well... let's just say sometimes it's not so easy.

One day, when he had gotten quiet, I assumed he had fallen asleep, since he still had been taking a nap from time to time. I had a friend over for tea and was listening to the baby monitors in his and his sister's rooms to make sure everything was OK. Then suddenly I heard loud banging on my front door and jumped about 6 feet in the air. I peeked around the corner and saw a strange man at the door. Now, I don't know about you, but when I see a strange man banging on the door and no husband around, I get a little nervous. But then he started to scream that a boy was coming out of his window on the second floor.

Have you ever had one of those nightmares where you can't run down the hallway fast enough and the hallway keeps getting longer and longer? Well, that happened at that moment in my home. I could not run up the stairs fast enough. I ran up to his room, threw open the door, and witnessed my then three-year-old son half out of his second-story window onto the porch roof. Somehow I manged to grab his legs and yank him in the room without banging him into anything, and all was well. I thanked God for the angel He sent to protect my little boy, and that was the last time I ever assumed he was sleeping when I couldn't hear him on the monitor.

Now, fast forward a little while and it happens again. No, not climbing out the window. We got that window taken care of. Not that.

He got quiet.

Now I notice it. As soon as he doesn't say anything for a few minutes, I get suspicious. One day not long ago, he got quiet.

Too quiet.

I went quietly up to his room in case he had fallen asleep, but too nervous about what he could be getting into not to check and I found this.


Cute huh? How on earth he ever fit into his pillowcase I'll never know, but I prefer that to the window...