Our kids find it hard to get to sleep at night, and I’m guessing they’re not alone. They’re like your kids: they need one more glass of water, one more kiss, the ceiling fan on or off, and their closets checked for the bad guys who live large in their imaginations.
The Hergenrader kids have the extra temptation of roommates. It’s their little taste of the college experience, fifteen years early. No matter how sleepy they are, how much they whined and said they were too tired to brush their teeth, they can’t resist the chatting. Or reading books to each other. Or discussing the possibility that more bad guys may have slunk into their closets. Or telling stories that feature contraband words like “poop.” Or running around the room, chasing each other and screaming.
By the way, those last couple are just the boys.
The girl roommates love to tell secrets. And even though I know they’re tired, and even though I know the late-night whispering will result in a cranky breakfast, I usually let them get away with this roommate bonding time. It really does remind me of college. I still remember snuggling in my bed, just before my brain turned off for the day, confiding in my roommate about the day that had past and the day yet to come.
This Christmas when our kids caroled at a nursing home, I wondered about the roommates there. Did they chat in their beds as they drifted to sleep? Did the dark room give them confidence to confide in each other? Did they remember doing all that as college students sixty years before?
Admittedly, there are some nights when I have no patience for the kids’ roommate bonding time. I tell the girls they cannot say one word to each other, that they MUST GO SLEEP. NOW!
This doesn’t work so well for the boys, mostly because Nate is still two and finds it hard to unwind, once he’s wound up. On nights like that, I lay down in his bed with him and rub his back.
This never fails to calm his down. Well, that, and the paci we still let him have, a full six months after his siblings had to give theirs up (don’t judge; we all have our battles).
I snuggle Nate, and he rubs my face with his little fingers. As his body relaxes, his eyes close halfway, and his breathing deepens, he murmurs to me. “I love you, mommy. I love you so much because you are my best friend. You are the best. You and Daddy are the best, so I love you. You are so pretty. I love you sooooo much.”
I have no idea where he learned this. I’m guessing it’s because the boy loves his sleep. The promise of eight hours in his warm bed brings out his passion. But that doesn’t explain why he doesn’t murmur these sweet nothings to M, when he snuggles with him.
Maybe this amorous side of Nate is a sweet glimpse of his future. He’ll whisper similar pillow talk to another lucky girl one day.
Let’s just hope that it’s after college.
Way after.
