Dear Oliver – The learning curve of life
October 2025
I sure enjoy watching you learn how to be a 15-month-old person, and I see why we call people your age toddlers. That’s how you look with your stiff-legged, flat-footed shuffle. You can move pretty fast when you want to. But you fall down frequently—usually on your diaper padded behind but sometimes as a faceplant resulting in lumps and bruises. Your language has shifted from grunts and pointing into a more melodic and sing-song cadence with a few “words” sprinkled into your stream of consciousness. Last night, you surprised us all when you repeated the word “outside” when we asked the dogs if they needed to go there. You love playing in the back yard.
You and I are on the learning curve of life. The problem is, we’re at opposite ends of the curve. Your learning is speeding up. Mine is slowing down. You’re learning to use crayons. I forgot why I walked into the room. You’re learning to walk and talk. I’m forgetting people’s names before we finish our conversation.
I recently watched you on video learning how to color at school as you watch older kids. I helped teach you to sit in your miniature rocking chair so you could snack and watch TV. And you learned to walk holding a cookie in each hand all by yourself—a sort of innate talent.
As for me, I’m still learning, too. I earned a master’s degree from the University of Georgia at the age of 60, self-published a novel at age 63, learned to drive a mule wagon and wrote a book about it at 66, and published a memoir at 70. Now, at 75, I’m learning about how toddlers like you develop.
You are participating in several types of learning: Visual learning (watch and learn), Physical learning (try and fail), Verbal learning (don’t touch), and Reflection (not sure this one applies, yet). You seem to be advancing nicely.
When I recently asked you to place your sippy cup on the table rather than the floor, you did. When I asked you to hand me an empty Cheetos bag off the floor, you did. (Did I say Cheetos? I meant to say Healthy Bites). After watching the dog carry a large, red, rubber ball in her mouth, you did the same thing with no hands. (It was hilarious, but I’m not sure I’ll mention that to your mom). As the celebrated Spanish author Miguel de Cervantes wrote in his classic work Don Quixote in the early 1600s, “It’s good to live and learn.”
Dear Oliver – My Snoozing Buddy
You and I share a daily habit. We both start getting cranky and out-of-sorts shortly after lunch every day. It’s time for our naps. You have been taking naps since the day you were born. I stopped taking naps during my school and working life, but started again after I retired from my job, about ten years ago. When I was working, I found it amusing—perhaps even childish—that my dad would head to the bedroom every afternoon for his nap. But it turns out, dad was in good company.
Famous adult nappers include writers, artists, philosophers, inventors, statesmen, and generals—some of whom are quoted as saying: “The replenishing thing that comes with a nap – you end up with two mornings in a day.” “I count it as an absolute certainty that in paradise, everyone naps. A nap can offer a glimpse into a twilight nether world where gods play, and dreams happen.” “Reading and naps, two of life's greatest pleasures, go especially well together.”
Until recently, you took two naps every day, one in the morning and one in the afternoon. Now you only take one nap a day. Reducing your naps to once daily seems to be a part of your growing process—like no more formula and baby bottles, eating solid food, and walking and talking. I’m not sure why reducing naps is considered progress, except that it might help you sleep better at night.
When it is time for your nap you let us know by yawning and rubbing your eyes. So, we find a quiet space for you in the bedroom. As for me, I prefer to lay on the screen porch where I can watch the birds and butterflies flitting around the garden and listen to the squirrels and chipmunks fussing at some perceived threat. I might even compose an essay like this one in my head while I soak in the atmosphere and drift off to sleep.
According to Sleepdoctor.com, there are several types of Naps. Short naps typically last about 15 or 20 minutes while longer naps may last an hour or more. Both can be effective, but experts tend to recommend shorter naps. Sleep too long and you might wake up groggy or disorientated.
Some naps even have names. A power nap, for example, is a brief nap, generally only lasting 10 to 20 minutes. People around the world take power naps to relieve daytime sleepiness and increase their productivity at work.
The recovery nap, or replacement nap, is a period of daytime sleep that’s meant to benefit people who didn’t sleep well the night before. Your parents might need a recovery nap after you had a bad night.
A person who works the night shift might take a proactive nap. This type of planned nap is typically longer than a power nap and can often last several hours.
My naps are called recreational naps because they just give me pleasure. I have no trouble sleeping at night, but I do start to drag late in the day. So, I enjoy my afternoon nap, just like my dad did.
As usual, my dad was way ahead of his time in recognizing what I just recently discovered from “modern” research. Dad must have known that naps increase alertness and may improve working memory, which is how the brain stores and manipulates information. Short daytime naps can have a positive effect on learning, can help us become more emotionally stable, and can improve our mood. Naps might even have positive effects on our immune systems, making us less likely to catch colds. British poet Lord Byron (who died over 200 years ago) said “Always nap when you can. It is cheap medicine.”
You don’t seem to mind your naps. When you are tired, you go down pretty easily for an hour or so. I suppose the day will come when you will fight it. And when you begin first grade, naps will no longer be part of your routine—perhaps for the rest of your life. That’s when you and I will part ways. I will still get cranky and out-of-sorts after lunch. So, I plan to follow the advice of that great philosopher, Winnie the Pooh, who said, “Let’s begin by taking a smallish nap or two.”