
Mel walked in on me sleeping. It was 2 p.m. on a Saturday and I was supposed to be folding laundry.
“What the crap?” she said. “Why do you get a nap?”
“I’m not napping,” I said. “I just fell over. Then I realised how comfortable the bed was, so I decided to stay in it for a little bit.”

I was trying to be funny.
Mel didn’t laugh.
“I want a nap,” she said.
“Then take one,” I said. My face was in the pillow, so I sounded muffled.
“We don’t have time to nap.” She emphasised the “we.”
“Tristan has a soccer game in 20 minutes. After that, we have to pick up dirt for the backyard before the nursery closes.”
She stomped out of the room and suddenly I felt guilty. Mel and I have three kids under 9, and getting them all to sleep for more than about 5 hours is about as likely as aligning the stars.
It happens, sometimes, but rarely.
One child will be thirsty at 10 pm, and by midnight, another has had a nightmare. The really difficult one is Aspen, the 1-year-old. She’s the worst roommate ever. She stays up late fussing, and then gets up in the night at least once. In the past few months, she has decided that bright and early is a great way to start the day.
