Nap Hostage

I'm in the car. In my driveway. With a car full of groceries. I dare not open the door. HeyMama is in the backseat taking a rare and much-needed nap. We did a long series of errands, and the drive home knocked her out. If she wakes up too early, she'll be a bear. And BestestHusband is on his way to Amsterdam for the week. So I need to pace myself in the parent/child conflict department.

So I've checked email. I've checked Facebook. I talked to BestestHusband while his cab was stuck in traffic. I'm now blogging. Because I'm a nap hostage. If it weren't for all of the food that's rapidly thawing, I'd just take a nap myself. But there's a lot of food back there...

Ok, BestestHusband just called to say he got through security quickly. And now he just butt-dialed me from the plane.

I'll go in soon. But the silence is quite lovely. I'm sure MeToo is awake from her nap, and as soon as I walk in to the house, my silence will be gone.

Who's watching MeToo? Grandpa. Thank God for Grandpa.