Hard Rock and Tough Love

I don't know about most kids, but for The Ambassador, falling asleep in the car is the kiss of death for naps. Sure, I can move him from the car to bed with no problem, but his naps never seem to last as long as when he falls asleep at home. Generally, I schedule errands and outings around naps, so it's not an issue, but sometimes things run long or I make a quick stop at McDonald's to fuel a pregnancy craving (just a hypothetical example, obviously), and the next thing I know, all I can see are heavy eyelids in the backseat.

Hubby and I took The Ambassador shoe shopping this afternoon, because after three months of wearing nothing but sandals, our attempts yesterday to jam his feet into size 6 shoes with enclosed toes were unsuccessful. Given that autumn landed with a giant thud last Sunday at 9:04 am on the dot, real shoes are quickly becoming a must, and since putting on and taking off a two-year-old's shoes is about as easy as deciphering the United States tax code, a "quick trip" to Kohl's and Target became an epic marathon of whining and bargaining (hey, I get a little whiny when I'm pregnant, and Hubby does what he has to do).

About six blocks from home, The Ambassador's pre-crash meltdown was in full-swing, and he even began protesting the brain-melting toddler music we were playing on the car's CD player. Three blocks later, Hubby looked in the rear view mirror and said, "Uh, oh, it's falling asleep." (We refer to The Ambassador as "it" when we don't want him to know we're talking about him. Dehumanizing? Maybe. But you try to act subtle when your picky kid is actually picking up a new food from his plate and might stick it in his mouth, but if he knows you're the least bit excited about it, he will cease experimentation immediately, so you clench your teeth and mumble things like, "It is picking up a piece of pita." Oh, please... as if you're going to win Mother of the Year this year, either.)

With so little ground left to cover we did what any thinking parents would do, and we took a page from the U.S. military's strategy book and cranked up the William Tell Overture and This Old Squirrel on the car sound system while The Ambassador screamed in angry dissent for a few short blocks. Victory was ours, and we made it home with him awake. Operation Nifty Package Part Deux was a success. Our very own little Manuel Noriega arrived home awake and nap-ready. Bliss.