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Conversations with My Napper

Since I came back from being away for a few days I have often been found strolling my 2.10 year old to sleep, or driving him to sleep, or at least attempting to do so. Whether or not sleep is finally accomplished, it’s been an interesting time. There is something so lucid and free in that relaxed state of the mind before he drifts off to sleep.

While pushing him in the squeaky double jogger through the wooded path near our house:

Cayce: And that’s why we have cake EV-ery MORNing!

Continuing: And Mickey cried, What’s all that RACK-et? to his Mama and his Papa.

Me: That’s right! And Mickey floated down past his mama and his papa sleeping tight—

Cayce: -- and he was NAKED!

Me: That’s right! And he was naked!

Me continuing: And into the light of the Night Kitchen.

And the bakers who baked until dawn
So we can have cake in the morn
Mixed Mickey in batter,
Crying
Milk in the Batter!
Milk in the Batter!
We bake cake and Nothing’s the matter!

Cayce: Stir it! Scrape it! Mix it! Bake it!

Me: And they put that batter up to bake

Cayce: A de –LICious MICK-ey cake!

Cayce:  But Mommy, we don’t have the book!

Me: I know Cayce. But that’s okay. We can try to remember it.

 

Driving the lovely wooded Miacomet Road:

Cayce: Waka-waka-woo (or didhe actually say arborita?) That’s the Spanish word for tree…  These trees shaped like the carnival rides—like what they have at the carnival.

You and Daddy and Me went to the carnival. And we didn’t go on the ferris wheel. It was too fast. And I ate cotton candy.  And I ate, I ate, I ate fried dough… with chocolate syrup on it…

Today, driving through town in the car:

That man’s riding a moped. Maybe when I a little bigger I can ride one. I’m so small. It’s dangerous. It’s too high up, and I could fall. 

 

This morning, to his stuffed Frosty:

Your nose is a carrot. I LOVE carrots! But I can’t have this one because you need it.