Try you might, but everyone crashes eventually.

The baby crawled over me, but I didn't move. She looked at me and laughed. Then she leaned in to give me a kiss, which for a 1-year-old means an open-mouth head butt. Then she whapped me on the stomach just for the fun of it.

I did not react, just looked at her. This made her laugh even more.

She grabbed my glasses from my face, and she tried them on with a belly laugh and a brief impersonation of me.

"You got my number," I said, as she gurgled and moved her head side-to-side.

I wanted to jump around the room and entertain her like Bob Hope entertaining the troops -- even though she doesn't know who that is. But, every once in a while, I crash. And when it happens, I am useless.

She sees this as an opportunity to climb on me or to get some reading in. If I don't perk up, I often find myself covered in enough books to start a small library.

Or, she sees it as the perfect opening to run down the hallway, open a drawer or cabinet and empty its contents on the floor -- taking inventory, if you will. Though, that plan is quickly squashed.

My 3-year-old gets annoyed with me, tugging on my arm until I am up and active again.

But, everyone crashes once in a while. It's the reason that "movie days" were invented.

The baby understands this. She will crash anywhere.

"She's falling asleep!" My older daughter said from the back of the car the other day.

"Don't fall asleep," my wife and I said in unison. We were only driving a few miles and didn't want her getting deep into it when we were going to have to pull her out of the car after just a few minutes. She looked around, acknowledging the situation. She stretched a little and opened her eyes wide, as if to tell everyone that there was no way that she was going to fall asleep.

Then she fell asleep.

When the kids crash, it's usually pretty great because you can actually accomplish 100 percent of a task. Things like doing the dishes, cleaning the house or catching up on reruns of "The Office" are all much easier to do if the kids are sleeping. Though, I am slowly learning that there is a big difference between a baby falling asleep in your arms and a little kid crashing. A baby crash is soft and sweet and filled with kisses. But a little kid crash is literally a crash. I think it's because they get so excited about the world, and they don't want to miss a single moment.

My 3-year-old doesn't stop moving, ever. Even when she is standing still, she buzzes. If you ask her about her day, you'll have to do so while spinning in a circle with her. I do this a lot because I want the inside scoop on everything that happened in preschool. She spins one way, I spin the other. We stick our hands out and high five as we pass. And I enjoy every detail of her day that I can handle before losing my lunch. It's a conversational all-you-can-eat buffet; might make me sick, but there's a lot of it.

"For snack time, we could choose graham cracker and club cracker," she said.

"What did you choose?" I said with a queasy swallow.

"I choosed both."

Usually, when I run out of energy, her's seems to increase. And I must muster any energy I can find.

When I crash, usually, I am saved by my wife. Moms, I have come to discover, don't really get to crash. Though it's not for lack of trying. 

If I can see she needs a break, I try to steal them away or distract them. Though, they always have an excuse to go see her.

"Mom was telling me about some cookies that she wanted to make me, but I can't remember what they were called," our daughter said the other day while we played in the basement.

"No she didn't, leave her alone," I'll replied.

"Yes she did, and if I don't ask her, then I will forget what they are called," she replied.

"Fine, go ask her," I said. "And tell her I want some cookies, too."
