My biggest fear is about to come true. Okay, that’s not entirely true my biggest fears are shark attacks and a bat in the house but the baby giving up her afternoon nap ranks right up there.

I need that time to tidy, fold laundry, shave my toes (when required, it’s not every day) and have a cup of tea.

She needs that time to rejuvenate, relax with her dolly, gear up for round two, the afternoon hours.

Here are a few of the things I’ve heard coming from her room the past few afternoons;

“Mommy, I need you.” Fair enough, what mother doesn’t come running when they hear their child is in distress and that they need you? If just for a hug, isn’t that my job?

“Mommy, I have a booger.” I arrive promptly with a tissue. She does not need a tissue but if pressed, she would have no trouble producing one and likely causing some damage to one or both nostrils. A risk I’m not willing to take, back in I go.

“Mommy, turn on the hall light.” The hall light is actually on but the sun is distorting the colour given the bulb is 300 shades darker than the blinding rays coming in her window. I plug in the thousand-candle-flashlight and wait with the fire extinguisher for the hall to catch on fire.

“Mommy, I have to pee.” After a three month hiatus from the potty, I can’t take any chances at possible progress. To the bathroom!

“Mommy, I have the hiccups.” There are no hiccups to be heard but she’s trying desperately to distort her voice to produce some fake ones “hiccup!” in the hopes I am the dumbest human alive.

“Mommy, I cut my forehead. I’m bleeding.” Hmmm. Self mutilation is no laughing matter. I have to have a serious discussion about the emotional and physiological side effects of engaging in such acts or pretending to be.

“Mommy, there are scary kids in my closet.” Thanks to her big sisters coming up with an instant way to win hide-and-seek, I have a baby who is afraid of her own bedroom.

The phone rings. I am going to strangle whoever is on the other end. “Mommy, the phone woke me up!”