But even with all that to do...

The room is dark, cool, and quiet. The house has reached that restful point at the afternoon's warmest when lunch has settled in and the weight of the morning's activities is resting heavy on our lids. There's only one problem.

"I all done nap."

M is decidedly awake, through his own force, since I can tell by his grump that he's actually very tired. He moans and I sympathize. It's hard to fall asleep, hard to let go of the morning and whatever might await. I sit on the edge of the bed and rub, talk, soothe. He wants me to lay down and it would be so easy. In fact, I'm nearly asleep already. Five fifteen seems eons ago and ten fifteen a distant goal. But there is sweeping half-done, exercises half-finished, and a book due to book club next week. I only get one hour now that nap time had taken so long to get going, and I'll have to make the most of it to get done even half of what I had mentally noted to do. Still, it's so warm, and quiet, and peaceful, and M has nearly drifted off. But it's the principle of the thing, the precedent it sets for every nap from here on out.

I drag myself from the bed, slowly, and give him one last pat before leaving him to his rest. It's about him, of course, but even more so about me. People really are capable of so much more than they give themselves credit.