The end is nigh. I just know it. But in my mind’s eye, I light incense and offer up the dregs of my daughter’s food — crushed Cheerios, half-eaten veggie hotdogs and glue-hard mac and cheese — to the mysterious forces that hold sway over my child’s sleep patterns. Please, Toddler Sleep Gods, preserve this two-hour nap for just one more day, I silently plead after I close the door to my now-3-year-old daughter’s room.
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