Quiet Time Ghost

Every day, directly after lunch, or later if necessary, we religiously observe "Quiet Time". This gives everyone a much needed break after too much fun and the onset of the crankies. Usually Zoe goes down for her nap, then Jed and I pile into his bed for three books, a snuggle and a smooch. Then he stays in there with his potty and snack for an hour while I leave to do my blessed 15 minutes of couch laying and then catch up on Primary President Business. (Sometimes this turns into a nap for mom, but I figure if I can't stay awake for 15 minutes on the couch then clearly I need it.)

In the past, Jed has always had a baby-lock handle on the inside of his door so he could only come out by knocking. This has worked well for us, but we've decided now he is old enough, and responsible enough, to learn to stay in the room on his own. Yesterday I gave him a little talk as I left, but he still popped out about twenty minutes later. I led him back into the room and laid back down on the couch.

A few minutes later, I hear a rustling and peeked over the arm of the couch. There in the hallway stood a small figure with a garishly bright car-themed quilt thrown over his head. The quilt wholly encompassed him like a woman in a burqa. Slowly, almost silently, the small, bright ghost creeped down the hallway. When he sensed he had left the hall, he entered the living room and slowly, oh so slowly, the creature sank down, smaller and smaller, until he dissolved into a blanket thrown carelessly on the floor.

The truth is, I was impressed. The kid must have been spread-eagled under there, pressed so tightly against the floor that if I hadn't witnessed it I may HAVE mistaken him for a blanket! Perhaps my child has a future as a sniper. I had just finished nursing Zoe to sleep and at that point I was not going to wake her up for anything. So I just walked right past him and set her down in the basement.

When I came back up, the burqa-d creature was wandering around the living room, gently bumping into walls and furniture in a slow careen. When he heard me, the ghost collapsed, in soundless slow motion again, but before he made it all the way to the floor, I grabbed him and carried him bodily, still swathed in blankets, into the bedroom and set him on the bed. Still silent, he lay there without moving. The charade was still on.

I lifted up the blanket. Attempting to control my shaking laughter, I kissed him on the forehead and said "You need to stay in quiet time until your timer rings, ok?" He looked up at me and spoke, at last.

"All right."

And he did.