We did the naptime shuffle again today, and I finally resorted to putting E-Beth in the pack-n-play in her room so she CAN'T GET UP to go "Dora-The" Exploring. She is now caged in the pack-n-play for the rest of naptime. I do not feel bad about this.
She is, at this moment, up there screaming at the top of her lungs, "I WANT SOCKS, MOMMY! GET SOCKS, MOMMY! NEEEEEEEEEEED SOCKS, MOMMY!"
It's freaking 88 degrees upstairs and the kid wants socks.
All day long I have been looking forward to lunch. I planned it all morning - the last two slices or fresh rye bread, spread nicely with tuna and a row of dill pickle slices. When I heard E-Beth scrambling around in the play room instead of in HER BED, where she had promised me she would stay, I placed my sandwich on the table and ran upstairs to catch her in the act. After seeing that she had pulled every item of clothing from her dresser and stuffed it all into her bed, I realized that the whole big-girl bed + Elizabeth = disaster. So, I hiked back downstairs to get the pack-n-play.
Just as I turned the corner I saw that damn dog run away with my beloved sandwich in his mouth.
Bastard.
So I end this tale, as E-Beth is upstairs repeating, "Ow! I sorry. Ow! I sorry. Ow! I sorry. Ow! I sorry. Ow! I sorry. Ow! I sorry. Ow! I sorry. Ow! I sorry. Ow! I sorry. Ow! I sorry."
I'm afraid to look.