You know what it's like. Trashing every toy. Refusing to eat. Every time I try to play one game, he gets up and goes to another one. Cleanup attempts are battles. Everything is chaos.
But then there was nap time. 1:00pm came around. I picked him up and started up the stairs. Halfway up, he tried to throw himself from my grasp. Did I mention I had a laundry basket in my other hand and hip? Fortunately, I have big hands and long arms.
Anyway, we got upstairs, set him and the basket down, and locked the gate behind me, blocking him from getting there. I knew he would try to bolt to the stairs the second I put him down. He ran to it, found it locked, and sat down and cried. I took a deep breath, (probably the hundredth time I'd taken a deep breath today,) squatted down, and put my arms out. "Can I have a hug?"
The truth is, I needed a hug as badly as he did. He got up, then sat back down. His crying was subsiding. He got up again and walked into me and then hugged me. Then he said, "Teeth." He likes brushing his teeth.
After getting his tooth brush, we sat down in the glider next to his crib. While he sat in my lap, we read the usual two books: There's a Wocket in My Pocket (he calls "Pocket")and Fox in Socks (he says the whole name) by Dr. Seuss. Then I picked him up and we hugged while I sat and sang his favorite songs du jour, Jingle Bells ("Dashing") and Bye Baby Bunting (Bunting). After a couple rounds of both, I set him down in his crib. He stood up, but I told him to lay down and, singing again, put a blanket on him, turned on his night light, and walked out, closing the door behind the last word of Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star ("Twinkle.")
This is our routine when it's bedtime or naptime. It was nice to get back to our good times after a long morning of fighting.