Power Nap

Early into nap time I heard a very loud and unusual clunk come from Stella's room. My first thought was, She's finally escaped. But the noise wasn't followed by pitter-patter sounds of tiny feet. Tossing all of her toys out of her crib, then collapsing in an exhausted heap in the center of her mattress, is a favorite nap time activity. But this didn't come to mind. And if I'd really been using my noodle, I would've gone through the list of Stella's ever-growing bed entourage and remembered the baby doll with the unusually large (and plastic) head.

But my noodle is tapped of all sound and reasonable ideas. Instead, I crept to her door and cracked it open just enough to see that no one had fallen. No one had broken into her room and stolen her. And no furniture had collapsed on top of her, leaving her to be smothered. It was, in fact, the baby doll big head on the floor.

The door was barely open, so she couldn't see me, but I was finally able to witness first-hand the daily Grab and Toss project. And indeed, it is a project. One animal or doll at a time is carefully selected, examined, then heaved overboard with a mighty and precise toss. She doesn't work her way from one end of the bed to the other. She alternates ends. Picks up Elmo. Rubs his googly eyes. Talks to him a bit, lulling him into a false sense of security, then Wham! Over the rails. Then she toddles her way down to the opposite end of the bed. Picks up Miss Bun-Bun. Flicks at her whiskers, whispering sweet nothings, then Kaboom! Down on the ground. Back and forth she goes, until nothing is left.

Well, not nothing.

The one thing that does not, under any circumstances, get tossed is her sweet, sweet blanket. Instead of sending that into the pile, she wraps it around head, nearly-turban-style, then lies down on her belly, behind high in the air, then off to sleep.

When she finished her little ritual, I quietly closed the door, silently wishing her sweet nap dreams as I tip-toed away. Then I heard, Bye, mama.