The Art of Ceasing the Movement

The more tired Mr. Sneaky Pants gets, the more he moves.  It's almost as if he knows that if he stops moving he will just fall directly asleep.  Last Friday afternoon at 2:00 I had my fill of jumping, twisting, sword thrashing, skipping, rolling, summersaulting, and hopping.  I suggested we make a little nest on the futon with his favorite "boy feet-a-pocket blanket."  

Grandma Kathy gave Gregory and I thick fleece blankets that fold up into a pillows.  We like them because the pocket that turns into a pillow is a great place to put our feet, and the blankets are amazingly thick and cozy.  However, the adults in the house never actually get to use the feet-a-pocket blankets, as they've been dubbed, because the kidlets are always cozied up in them.  They can fit their whole body in the pocket, and then they wrap the rest of the blanket around them.  

Anyway, I settled Mr. Sneaky Pants down on the futon inside his feet-a-pocket with a basket of books. I took a load of laundry upstairs, and came back down five minutes later.  He had fallen fast asleep (oh the glory of stillness) with his head buried completely under the blanket.  (I moved the blanket to take the picture.) He was snoring away, cute as a button.  For some reason both he and often Sarah as well have to have their heads underneath their blanket to fall asleep.