“Certainly,” I said, “by all means; and by the time he thoroughly understands, you generally have occasion to be still more tired.”
“Well, what would you do?”
“I’ll tell you what I’d do; follow the advice of a sensible little friend of mine, who has four children all of an age, and has incompetent service to rely on, when she has any at all.”
“And what is that, pray?”
“She says that come rain, hail, or fiery vapor, she takes a nap every day.”
“I don’t know how she manages it; I can’t, and I have one less child than she, and a fairly good maid.”
“Her children are trained, as children should be; the three younger ones take long naps after luncheon, and while they are sleeping, she gives the oldest child some picture book to look at, and simple stories to read, and she herself goes to sleep in the same room with him. The little fellow keeps as still as a mouse.”
“I think that is a cruel shame.”
“So do I. It would be far kinder if she let him have his liberty, and stayed up to take care of him, and then became so tired out that, by the time her husband came home she would be unable to keep her mouth (closed for it is only a well rested woman who can maintain a cheerful silence), and avoid a family quarrel.”
“No, I think it’s better not to quarrel, but I can’t take a nap, and often I’m so tired when Fred comes home, that, if he happens to be tired too, it’s just like putting fire to gunpowder.”