My baby boy is too old for naps. I have reluctantly come to terms with it, and traded his shortened nap (which was resulting in a desperately cranky evening) for a “rest time” in his room with books and toys. He curls up with a pile of library books and the heady knowledge that he is responsible enough to get up and fetch other toys from the room if he wants them. He considers himself very grown up now.
And our evenings are much more pleasant. But my mother’s heart cannot fathom, looking at the same wide eyes and curved lips that adorned my baby, how he grew up quite so fast.