I Was Ordered to Sleep in a Store

I sighed and turned to my two-year-old daughter. “Not now, Sweetie,” I said as I wiped pear residue from the walls, floors, ceilings, my lungs, and the Declaration of Independence. “Seeps! Seeps! Seeps!” She screamed again with a frustrated jump and stamp of her feet. I’m quite sure the added actions were supposed to encourage me to bend to her will. Instead, I began the Cha Cha Slide. I replied, “Mummy can’t go to sleep right now. We’re about to play with your train and then I’ve got to do some work.” She was very mature and accepted my need to balance teaching her role play and conversational skills and work for a paycheck so that the government doesn’t kill us off Purge style.

However, five minutes later I was fake asleep on the floor with a giraffe blanket on my face. A few weeks ago, my daughter became low-key obsessed with putting anyone and anything down for a nap. The dog, the vacuum, and the framed picture of my grandad were all ordered to “Seeps”. (Which means sleep.) Which is fair because I have the grace and sophistication of that dumbass Sleeping Beauty. These seeps usually involve me lying down on the floor because the couch might be too comfortable, and having a cushion thrusted under my head. Multiple blankets are then placed across my body, Tutankhamun style. Apparently, we own seventy-four bastard blankets.

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