Dear Daytime Nap,
As you may recall, we first became acquainted when my daughter was born some nineteen months ago. Back then, you visited us several times each day, restoring energy to a little person who could only manage to resist your temptations for short bursts at a time.
As she grew older, you came less and less. Every few months, you would surprise us by coming one less time during the day, leaving us trying to summon you, with no luck.
During those early days (and I hope you will not be too offended, dear Daytime Nap), I rejoiced each time you decided to come along less. You must remember how my daughter screamed and screamed when you visited, trying to defy the will to close her eyes. This drained me and made me upset too, as I held her in my arms, put her in her cot, in my bed; did anything to convince her to welcome you.
As you know, she never did want you around. She would not consider you amongst her friends. I do apologise for her hostility towards you. And, too, mine over that time.
I can see, now, that you were doing us a favour. You came calling in your friendly, gentle manner, yet we made life difficult for you.
As she grew and you began to visit only once a day, we settled into a routine of sorts. My daughter began to accept that you were a part of life and things became easier. Although she still didn’t welcome you with open arms, or closed eyes as it were, I myself came to be fond of you.
You gave my darling girl a chance to recharge, ready for a long afternoon of playing and running around.
While you were here for a couple of hours each day, I could sort things and clean up without having everything rearranged by a toddler. I ate lunch without small hands swiftly swooping over my plate, transferring my food into another’s mouth. A mouth turned upwards in a cheeky grin. I made phone calls uninterrupted, responded to messages and used my computer without fear of grimy food-covered fingers covering the screen and pushing buttons.
And now, dearest Daytime Nap, you have decided to leave us. As quickly as I became accustomed to your company, so you leave our household. This saddens me. I thought you would stay longer than nineteen months.
I must try to remember that you are now helping another household, one more weary little person and frazzled mother.
Darling Daytime Nap, we shall miss you. Please take care.