Quiet Time, or, Why The Two Year Old Doesn't Control Naptime

Usually naptime ("quiet time") in our house is very quiet. OC and Big T sleep in the room they all share, and Little T sleeps in our room in the pack n' play because she is a light sleeper and the other two aren't. However, the OC has decided for whatever reason today that she doesn't want to sleep and boy is she mad at me about it. She got out of her bed and started coming downstairs. I marched her back into her room, changed Big T's poopy diaper, put OC back in her little bed with her af-a-gany and her blankie (not the same thing at all, you know) and re-informed both of them of the rules of Quiet Time (we stay in our bed, we rest, we do not get up and wander around and disturb other children). Now there is less Quiet than there was before, and I'm sure my neighbors are hearing the brunt of OC's rage.

However.

The two year old doesn't control sleeptimes in this house. She doesn't control mealtimes, either. I don't get mothers who say, Well, he won't sleep in his bed, or he won't eat at the table, or whatever. And they're talking about a nine-month old. Won't? What does that mean at that age? It means that the parents don't want to do the sometimes ardous, always drudgy task of setting the rules and then enforcing them. I don't like that OC is upset, and crying a little, and the thought of her falling asleep still upset is upsetting to me. However, my will must be bigger than hers, because if I let her run the show on this one point, which is not insignificant in the big picture (if she doesn't nap now, she'll be a mess by 5, and I can't have that) she'll get the very bad idea that she can run the show on other issues. That never ends well for anyone.

I can usually tell the moms who are cavers. The ones who will do anything, ANYTHING, to get their children to stop crying, stop making a scene, stop using what we call a VERY SASSY VOICE in places that sassy voices are not appreciated, like library story hour, or Nordstrom, or 30 people back in line at the post office. My solution is a warning and then we leave. And I've done it--just said, that's it, and walked out. The most impressive time I did it was when OC threw a tantrum in the parking lot at music class because I wouldn't let her "ride on Mom," which is her lingo for me carrying her. I told her, This is your warning. You are going to walk like a big girl or we are going home. And she pushed it. And we left. Boy, you should have seen the look of surprise on her face when we got back in the van. It was like, Holy s**t, she meant it.

We haven't had that problem since.

BTW, OC is still hacked off at me as I type this. But she's still in her bed. And Big T is already asleep.

I just might win this one, too.