Breaking the Rules

I am a stickler for naps, even at four years old.  Jason and I have just found that all three of us are happier if Charlie gets even a little bit of sleep mid-afternoon.  The time varies based on our activities -- as does the location -- but it never fails: if Charlie naps we have delightful evenings; if he doesn't bedtime seems like a distant dream.

Weekends are always the hardest, though.  Our standard rule is that whether or not he sleeps, Charlie has to spend at least one hour "resting" and another playing quietly in his room. (And yes, this is at least as much for me as him -- but I figure that I figure he gets a lot of his personality traits from me, so I'm probably much more pleasant when I've had my "me-time").

So I'm sure Charlie was downright shocked this afternoon when I opened his door a mere hour into nap, acknowledged that he hadn't slept and told him to get up and go help his dad in the yard.  We had a bit of a tussle when he wanted to wear his church pants out (they apparently double as safari-pants due to their color), but came to a compromise when he unearthed an old pair.

Imagine his surprise and Jason's and my delight when Charlie walked out to find his brand new tire swing house-warming gift from Texas instead of chores.  Grandma and Grandpa are officially the coolest people in the world for at least the rest of the day -- to say nothing of Mom and Dad who managed to hang the crazy thing without a ladder and without killing each other.

I guess once in a while some rules are meant to be broken (at Mom's discretion of course).