Prone to Lie

Born and raised as an honest hard-working American, I eschewed the idea that naps were necessary past the age of five.  Naps were only for the slovenly and lazy which I certainly was not.  No one in my family took naps–they might have put their feet up on the couch and closed their eyes for a few moments but they did not change clothes or even take off their shoes.

And then I had children.

My daughters would drag mountains of sleeping paraphernalia out to the sofa and cuddle (how I hate that word) together in the afternoon for their nap in a veritable pile of parental failure.  My wife assured me this was natural and that the children would be far more pleasant if they had naps than if they did not.  I considered moving the sofa into the unheated garage to discourage this deviant behavior but was told in no uncertain terms I was being unreasonable.  Me?  Unreasonable?  As a side note, I did manage to move the one computer we had at home into the unheated garage and still consider that my most successful contribution to raising our children and though it has not happened yet, I am sure my children at some point will thank me.

One Sunday afternoon I found myself alone in the house walking purposely through the living room.  I noticed that the sun was shining on the couch (if you are from Oregon you understand what sort of revelation this is) and thought how nice it would be to sit on the couch in the sun for just a moment or two.  Well, things quickly slid out of control and half an hour later I was awakened by the front door slamming and the wife and kids staring at Mr. Slovenly.  I tried to explain I was not really napping (my shoes were still on)  but no one believed me–the contented look on my face gave me away.  I was mortified and determined not to let it happen again.

But I could not get the experience out of my head and the very next Sunday my sofa drew me to it again.  I was repelled as much as I was attracted.  I did not want to be a napper.  I had stuff to build, lawns to mow and heavy objects to lift.  But the sofa beckoned and I was powerless to refuse.  I gave in, and gave in the next week and the next week and the next until my afternoon nap became a Sunday ritual.

For the past six years, we lived in Latin America and I was forced by law (sort of) to nap everyday.  It helps when it  is institutionalized in a culture so there is no shame in taking an hour or two off in the afternoon to rest and relax and make the most of the second part of the day.  While I honestly did not see any perceptible benefit in efficiency in me or anyone else, an afternoon nap should be somewhere between liberty and the pursuit of happiness in any country’s Constitution.  Freedom to nap gives one great happiness and it is not really that hard to pursue.

Alas, some good things can never last and we found ourselves in China where people work long and hard and I had every expectation that my afternoon nap was a thing of the past.  But much to my great joy, the kindergarten at which we teach has a very strict afternoon nap policy–for everyone.  And even better, it is included in a holy triumvirate of pleasure: lunch, recess then nap.

Life is very, very sweet indeed.