Little Miss still naps. Yay! Most of the time, she actually sleeps, but there are times when I have to head upstairs during naptime to figure out what she’s doing up there. I’ve yet to fully decipher the bangs and what the differnt kinds mean.
Yesterday, I was hearing noises that I was pretty sure meant Little Miss was jumping on her bed, which is a no-no in regular times (her bed isn’t built to withstand that) and definitely verboten during naptime. I sighed and headed upstairs.
I found her laying atop her bed bouncing slightly, and whining.
Hey, Peanut, what’s the problem with sleeping here?
Well, of course you’re cold. Climb back under your covers, silly girl.
And then the crying ensued. Seriously, this girl needs to pursue a career in drama. She has got the crocodile tears thing down pat. Ohhh the horrors of childhood in my house.
I finally got her calmed down enough to tell me what the problem is. But, Moooooooooooom, if I get under the covers, then the bed will get all messed up again!
Oh. Huh. Well, yeah, now that she mentions it, I notice that her bed is rather … organized. Her blankets are folded, and I don’t remember having done that in the past few days. Hmmm.
The truth finally comes out. Little Miss made her bed this morning, unbeknownst to me. When I put her down for her nap, I not only put her under her covers, but I also “ruined” the blankets by covering her with them. While I’d been downstairs, she’d remade her bed and refolded all the blankets. And rearranged all her stuffed animals.
I’m not quite sure where this came from. My bed gets made on the days when I change my sheets, and that’s it. I tried briefly to teach Mister Man to make his bed a couple years ago, but it didn’t take, and I let it go. It just isn’t that big a deal to me.
I’m pretty sure an alien is inhabiting my daughter’s body. On the other hand, I’m not sure that this is an entirely bad thing.
In the end, we struck a bargain. She’d take her nap – under her covers – and I’d help her remake her bed after naptime.
I had to wake her up three hours later from a nice, sound sleep. And then she directed me in exactly what I had to do (while she helped) to fix her bed just the way it’s supposed to be.
Weird, I know. How long do you suppose this stage lasts?