The nanny took the day off today to register her daughter for classes. That means I, once again, have the boys to myself for the day. So far, no major catastrophes, although it’s been a bit more challenging than the last time I did this. That time, we weren’t prisoners in our home.

The last time I had the boys sans nanny, I deftly planned a day of distraction — lunch with their mom, then a drive to the beach and back, which constituted their afternoon nap. It was flawless. Today, the air quality is still too unhealthy for wee ones, the heat wave is still going strong in our area and both boys are teething again. So, we’re all cooped up together in our hot apartment. All fussy for one reason or another.

I’m still getting used to the fact that my boys haven’t yet discovered logic. Each protested a nap — Wyatt, the morning nap, and Boone, the afternoon nap. I insisted that napping rocks more than The Jonas Brothers on meth but, despite the sound argument, they continued to protest. It went like this:

Me: Dude, I know you’re upset, but if you nap you’ll feel better.

Baby: No way, dude. I want to stay up and be fussy. I’m going for super fussy.

Me: When you’re rested, you can handle the day. You’re little. Things can get overwhelming. Besides, when you’re my age, you’ll love taking naps. Why not start now?

Baby: Screw that. I’m now going to act hungry, then get mad when you offer me a bottle. It’s totally going to frustrate you.

Me: Dude, don’t do that. Just nap. You’ll be much more level-headed.

Baby: Shut it, dude.

Me: Dude.

Baby: Dude.