Machiavelli, Jr.

It’s nap/quiet time. Some of the boys are too old for naps, and thus play quietly in the livingroom. The babies are in cribs upstairs. The middlers sleep or lay quietly with books and soft toys on low cots in the kitchen, out of sight of the livingroom, until quiet time is over.

Arthur is one of the middlers. Some days he naps, others he doesn’t. Today looks to be a no-nap day, though he has managed “quiet” relatively well thus far. But he’s bored and wants to be with the big boys in the livingroom. I’m still hoping he’ll drop off.

A voice comes from the cot behind me as I type.

“Mary, c’n I get up now?”

“No, Arthur. It’s still quiet time. Shush.”

I hear him shuffle, his feet drum a bit, he starts to hum.

“Arthur!” I intone warningly.

Quiet descends. For maybe 90 seconds. The voice resumes.

“Is it still quiet time?”

“Yes. I will tell you when quiet time is over. Meantime, Be Quiet.”

I can see Arthur trying to see the boys in the other room, but he can’t from where he lays. Nonetheless, they are the inspiration for his next attempt.

“Mary? Mary, there’s a big mess out there, and it’s too much for them to clean up. I need to go help.”

Nice to see such altruism at such a young age.