Why is it that on the days you really, really need them to nap, they do whatever is the complete opposite of nap - bounce off the walls, roll down the stairs, throw balls through the halls, spin around until they fall on the ground?

(And let's be honest here: a) we need them to nap everyday, and b) it's just as much for us as it is for them.)

Sammy isn't a bad kid - not by any stretch of the imagination. But he is a toddler. And with toddlerhood comes afternoons like today, times of testing boundaries and the limits of an already-exhausted mama's energy: dumping handfuls of cat foot into the cat water. Learning how to fill - and overfill - his cups of water at the water cooler. Tiptoeing closer and closer to whatever it is I've told him not to go near. Not bad things, just exhausting things.

It makes it all the more difficult that he's giggling and so damn cute while he's doing them.

Not difficult things, but damn cute ones:

Me (while changing his diaper): Hey Sammy - where's your belly button?
Sammy (slightly confused, as it was tucked under his diaper): Oh no! It's gone! We need to buy another one!

He has one of those plastic microphone things that echoes his voice. He's obsessed with the book, Punk Farm. Sure enough, he was running around, yelling into the microphone (I kid you not): ARE YOU READY TO ROOCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCKKKKKKK?

And then, after banging on his piano: THANK YOU WISCONSIN!!!

It almost made up for the MIA nap. Almost. I foresee an early bedtime tonight. And some wine for mama. Yes, definitely some wine.