Ninja Naps

When I was in kindergarten, class was broken up into two sessions.  I was in the morning session, which meant I got out of school around lunch time.  Most days, my stepmother would pick me up, feed me something delicious (Spaghetti O’s was my favorite), and then insist I take a nap. 

She learned early on that she couldn’t put me in my own room, because I would just sit in there and play with my toys.  So, she would make me go into her bedroom to lie down.  It should be noted that I was not fond of taking naps at this age.  Even my young brain could comprehend that the sun was out, so I should be playing.  So, I would lay there, my brain a tornado of childlike thoughts, subconsciously counting the minutes until I was sure that the whole hour had transpired.  I would then get up and walk into the kitchen to let her know that I was awake and ready to go again.  However, what seemed like an hour to me was in reality only about 3 or 4 minutes, so off we’d go again back to the bedroom where I was told to lay there until she came to get me.

On one such occasion, I lay on their bed, staring at the patterns in the paint on the ceiling.  My eyes darted around the shapes, drawing creatures and monsters, making up stories and having them interact with each other.  As my imagination ran unchecked, minutes turned into hours.  Hours into days.  The monotonous boredom overwhelmed me.  It was pure, agonizing torture.  I was sure that my stepmother had forgotten about me.  That was the only explanation for how she could have left me in here this long.  It was up to me to remind her that nap time was over.  So, up I popped, back into the kitchen, and once again informed her that I was awake and ready to go again.  She unceremoniously told me that it had only been 5 minutes since the last time I had come in there, and that it didn’t count unless I stayed in there for the whole hour.

Obviously, she couldn’t count as well as me, because there was no way it had only been 5 minutes.  I decided right then and there that it was a conspiracy.  She wanted me out of the way, so that she could play without me.  I was outraged.  So, I lay on their bed, plotting and scheming.  I had to know what she was doing.  I had just slid off the bed to gather reconnaissance, when I heard a creak in the hall outside the door.  I bolted back onto the bed, squeezed my eyes shut tightly, and tried my best to pretend that I was asleep.  Of course, I had no idea what that looked like, since I was always asleep when I was doing it for real.

It must have worked, though, because my stepmother stood looking in at me for several seconds and then satisfied, headed out again.  Now, was my chance.  My ruse had bought me time to figure out what sort of playing I was being excluded from.  Quiet as a ninja, I slid off the bed and tip-toed out of the room and down the hall.  I slunk to the floor and slowly peered around the corner into the kitchen.  This couldn’t be right, my stepmother appeared to be washing dishes.  Her back was to me, so I couldn’t tell for sure.  I needed a better angle.

So, I quietly crawled across the open doorway, keeping my eyes on my stepmother’s back in case she started to turn around.  When I was safely on the other side, I jumped to my feet and darted through the living room and into the den.  I stop behind my father’s recliner to assess the situation and formulate the next part of my plan.  This was going to be trickier, because the door to the den opened up right onto the sink.  If I left the safety of the recliner, then she’d spot me.  I had to be smart about this.  So, I made myself as small as I could, which wasn’t difficult for someone as skinny as I was, and squeezed into the space between the recliner and the end table.  Halfway through, I got stuck, and I was sure I was a goner.  But a bit of squirming, and I was free on the other side.  I quickly crept across the den, keeping close to the couch along the wall, so as not to be seen.  I once again slunk to the floor and peered around the corner into the kitchen.  I was aghast.  My stepmother was in fact merely washing dishes.  What kind of stupid game was this?  Obviously, not one that I was interested in, so I crept back and retraced my steps.

Once again, lying on the bed, I contemplated what I had seen.  Is that all she did while I was napping?  Washed dishes?  Surely not.  Something bigger was afoot, and I was going to get to the bottom of it.  I needed more data.  Once again, quiet as a ninja, I slid off the bed and tip-toed out of the room.  Just as I was rounding the corner into the hall, I came face to face with my stepmother coming the opposite direction to check on me.  She screamed in surprise.  I froze.  Fearing that the mission was lost, I turned tail and darted back into the bedroom, leaping the last few feet and landing on the bed with a squeak.  I once again assumed the best sleeping position I could muster, squeezing my eyes shut and hoping that my stepmother hadn’t seen me.  It had happened quickly.  There was a chance that I could still pull this off.

But she wasn’t fooled.  I had been caught.  She wasn’t mad, though.  She stood there looking at me for several seconds, sighed, and said, “I guess nap time is over.  Go play.”  That was all I needed to hear!