Honey, the Beast is Up (and I think it's your turn)

So far we've gone three days without a post-nap monster sighting. In other words, Boss has had three successful consecutive days of waking up more like an angel, or at least a pleasant little guy, rather than as Satan with a hangover and a hemorrhoid. Usually it doesn't matter if he wakes on his own, or if we--as Hubbo and I have dubbed it--“summon the beast.” The result is the same: When his eyes open, a scream erupts from his lips like a schoolhouse fire alarm. 

After a deep breath and hopes of a quick cool-off, I gently open his door and creep around various toys to open the shades, letting light in slowly. Things are quiet for a minute. Then, he greets me. 

“NAAAAAAAOOOOOOHHHHHH!” His legs flail, banging the back of the crib, and he thrusts around as if in a seizure.

I exhale defeat.

“OK, honeybun,” I attempt. “I'll come back after a few minutes to give you time to wake up.” 

"NAAAAAAOOOOOHHHHHHH! GOES DOWNSTAIRS!”

“OK,” I answer softly. “We can go downstairs.”

“NO GOES DOWNSTAIRS!”

I sigh.

He stands up, hands clenching the crib rail.

I stare at him, thinking of what to say next while trying my best to quash my annoyance and recall any tips from my stacks of parenting books.

“NAAAAAOOOOHHHH!” He throws himself on the mattress.

“We need to be more pleasant when we wake up; this is not good behavior,” I suggest feebly, which goes over as well as you'd imagine.

Eventually, after several verbal roundabouts, we make it downstairs, where the Incredible Hulk begins his transformation back into the mild-mannered Bruce Banner.

Later that night, as I'm wondering if something is truly wrong with Boss with his exasperating behavior, I Google “toddler very grumpy after nap.” The first post I read is about a 2-and-a-half-year-old with Boss's name who awakes like a madman. “This is about Boss! Hubbo must have posted this,” I conclude. But in reading more, I see I'm wrong; this kid has a sister, not a brother. I scan more posts and see tons of other parents who brave armor and stuff in ear plugs to confront their crazed nap-wakers.

“Thank God,” I breathe. He's normal, and I'm not the only parent pulling my hair out. The information is more comforting than my glass of merlot.

I'm not sure what to credit for these last three days of calm wake-ups, but we did move nap-time up by about 2 hours (one was due to Daylight Savings; the other because it was getting close to 4 pm before Boss would go down on any given day). I'm also not sure how long this luck will last. But I do know one thing: I'll take what I can get and praise the toddler gods with all the Hokey-Pokey, Little Teapot dances they may ever want. The devil can go straight back to … well, you know.