During Winter Break, G began staying up late. He is usually in bed by 8 during the weekdays and maybe 9 on the weekends, with some exceptions. During break, there were a few nights where he'd hop out of bed to tell us something or go potty until 11:30. The stories were lenghthy, and G was energetic.
Josh mentioned that maybe G was done with naps on the weekends. I did not agree or disagree, mostly because I wasn't sure that he'd mean it when the next weekend rolled around. G, however, remembered. This afternoon, I asked Josh if he was sleepy. G immediately announced, "Daddy said I don't have to take naps at home anymore."
Josh tried to backtrack and tell him he needed a nap, but G wasn't going for it. He remembered the new decree. I must have looked panicked, because Josh said, "Just because he doesn't take a nap doesn't mean you can't take a nap."
That is good because I hold true to the sage advice, Nap while the baby is napping. My baby is three years and three months, and B has known for that amount of time that if he wakes me up, there will be three nappers. So I have blissfully napped during maternity leave and most time off since then. I didn't wait around. I checked with Josh to see if he was ok with me napping right then, then hightailed it to my cozy bed when he agreed.
I awakened to a quiet house. B was on the couch, resting from possible flu. Josh was outside. I asked B where G was.
"Under the coffee table. He fell asleep during Timmy Turner."