It’s a little known secret that while parents pretend they want to race home before an over-tired, whining, barely coherent, deliriously exhausted child falls asleep in the car, the truth is, there’s nothing sweeter than stepping up, donning the super hero cape and carrying a now quiet, angelic, snoring child off to bed.
I remember pretending to be asleep just so I could be carried to bed after an overtime victory for the Leafs on Hockey Night in Canada and I know when my kids are playing the same game. You can tell when they’re faking because they hold on when you’re carrying them and squeeze their eyes closed peeking occasionally to be sure you don’t slam them into a wall. When they’re legitimately asleep, their bodies are totally limp. They’re vulnerable and trust you’ll move them from point A to B without tripping or tossing them for sport. For a parent, it doesn’t matter if they’re faking or actually asleep, it’s delightful to hold onto that child even if it is just a hall-length ride because it won’t be long before they’re hosting wild parties in your house without your permission and mounting a “borrowed” pizza company sign on the roof of the family car to cruise around with friends. You’ll be carrying them with your spouse’s help out to the car after receiving a call to pick up an inebriated teenager from the police station, one arm over each of your shoulders as though they’d fallen and twisted an ankle. Still technically carrying but this time, they won’t smell like Goldfish crackers.
The challenge is moving them from a vehicle, the couch, the high chair, toilet (I’ve seen it happen) without disturbing their slumber. If they were tired enough to fall asleep in any of these places, you do not want to be responsible for waking them prematurely.
Lately, my technique has been a little off and I’ve had some less than impressed kids with peeled back toenails after side swiping them through their bedroom doors or nearly concussed them by trying to gently set them down on their beds, narrowly missing a dresser but making contact with the wooden headboard.
When did they get so big? When did these seven pound, eleven ounce, elbow-to-wrist length minnows become fifty or seventy pound tunas with longer inseams than mine?
I never thought the day would come when one of the kids would ask me to carry them to bed and I would have to respond, “Can we just hold hands tonight? Mommy’s bad wrist is throbbing.” Or, “Would you settle for a piggy-back?”
For now, I’m okay circling the block a couple of times when I think someone is close to nodding off. I might have to drop by the gym a little more often and spend some time learning the proper technique for the fireman’s carry, but it’s worth it.
