It ain't just for babies anymore

I have to teach Child a lot. He didn't come into this world with the ability to swallow, for example. And forget about proper jump shot form. There are literally thousands of different tasks and abilities he'll have to master before he can take me on as King of the Castle, and he better get on it quick because who knows how long it will be before he's got competition.

Note: this is not a secret hint to my 20-odd loyal readers that Wife is with child. It just so happens that the Fancy Pants patented impregnating mechanism can only be held off for so long before it breaks through the gynecological defenses and captures the childbearing flag. (Further note: that last bit was way weird, even for me. But you know what? I'm leaving it in. Too bad.).

One thing I thought Child would have had down pat in the womb is napping. He had all that time floating around doing nothing - what else was he doing? Sure, all you holy folks will talk about him learning Torah with an angel, but let's face it - my kid would be sleeping through even that class.

But no, we had to teach him that he has to sleep every couple of hours, or his brain melts and his eyes fill with salty needles. Which is a shame, because napping is one of the few pleasures Americans deny themselves in pursuit of the, well, the American Way. Mexicans have their siestas, Israelis have their sha'at menucha, Italians have their June, July, August and September (ha ha! Italians. So lazy. I love stereotypes.). But Americans get...what, power lunches? Brunch? Other things that end in -unch?

Not for me, these non-idle pursuits. For a baby napping may be a vital time to recharge and grow and crap out the neck of your t-shirt, but for adults napping is a glorious luxury, a kind of blissful oasis in the middle of the day.

Ask around, and you'll hear some stories about the Fancy Pants and napping. That I once ditched Hebrew class to take a nap in the closet - that carpet was new, and quite cozy. That I slept through all of my econ requirements in college, and actually most of my major classes. But it was nuts-and-bolts finance, so you can't blame a guy, can you? Then there was the time I slept so often in one class that the teacher threw an eraser at my head. That incident, though, I consider an honor, because back in the day he was a world-class army sniper for the IDF, and he hit me right in the forehead. A fantastic shot. Must have been fifteen feet, easy. My point is that when I talk about naps, I'm kind of an expert.

What's my point, exactly? My point is that I want to bring back the nap. I want you people to tell others, and they'll pass it on further, and soon we'll have a whole Ponzi scheme built on the Andy Capp lifestyle.

Sleeping during the day, it's like you're stealing it. It feels naughty. You mess up the sheets which are still cool from not being used since the morning, the sun shines through the blinds - but not too bright, because you're not there to read. No need to put your clothes away, although I know some people are all about napping in their suits. Not me. Clothes go in a rumpled pile next to the bed, and I just crash for two, three, five hours until Wife wonders whether I'm in fact dead. Magnificence. It's a tiny slice of selfish indolence onto which I will cling until multiple Children decide it's time to play How Many Legos Fit in Daddy's Nose?

So that gives me like, I don't know, years.