Addison has always been a good sleeper.  That girl could make Supernanny cry with some of her antics, but if there’s one thing Addie Baby took to from an early age it’s sleeping.  She started sleeping through the night at 9 weeks old; exactly one week to the day after I lost my mind from sleep deprivation.  And she napped three times a day up until she was almost a year old, which wasn’t always convenient, but was a very nice break.  And her naps have almost always consistently been long.  No twenty minute cat naps; we’re talking two to three marathon naps a day.  Friends would call and ask us to go to lunch and I would say, “Sure, we have at LEAST 45 minutes between Addison’s naps.  Order for me and I’ll meet you there.”

And then Addison turned 16 months old and some sort of switch inside her was flipped.  The switch, it turns out, is hooked up to an IV of Red Bull and I can’t figure out how to turn it off again.  Addison doesn’t even get tired anymore.  She just blinks and she’s refreshed and ready to tear terrorize the area playgrounds. Addison went from napping three  hours a day to napping for, maybe, one.

I wish I could say there were an upside to this like, say, she sleeps for a blissful, uninterrupted twelve hours at night.  And she does, sometimes except this morning when she was up at 5:45 and that one day last week when she woke up at 4:00.  I think it’s the inconsistency that’s so hard to deal with.  At least if she were  always an early riser, I could plan accordingly and go to bed at dusk.

The dropped nap also means we have long stretches of time during the day to fill.  Stretches of time that send me into a panic because, heaven forbid, Addison gets bored.  There are only so many laps she can do around the kitchen island on her car.  And there are only so many times I can listen to the song it plays.  The weather has been mercifully nice lately so we’ve been getting outside a lot.

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We draw on the ground with sidewalk chalk for approximately four-and-one-half minutes before Addison comes over to me with a very serious look on her face and reaches out for my hand.

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She leads me up the street to her friend’s house to see if anyone is outside.

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And I spend the next 15 minutes coaxing her the four house-lengths back home.

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And Repeat.  I haven’t yet mastered getting her back into the house without a struggle.  Since Addie no longer gets tired, it’s not as if she’s rubbing her eyes and heading to the door for a siesta.

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Occasionally while we’re out in the front yard, Oliver will stop panting long enough to let out a whimper from inside the house because there’s a door separating us.  That and he doesn’t trust me to watch Addison.  You can hear the panic in his cries escalate when she gets close to the street.  When the puppy crying starts tugging at Addie’s heart strings, I take the opportunity to usher her into the house for a break.  I must train Oliver to use his power to help me with nap time.

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