Seven Years, Eight Years, and Twelve Days after she arrived, we finally slept in our own room.
There are a couple of caveats to this impressive streak. When the pandemic first settled in America, I was exiled to my in-law’s empty rental house so I’ve spent a good several months sleeping by lonesome. When the boy showed up, our daughter had to sleep in my mother-in-law’s bedroom while we stayed at the hospital. But of course, he was with us.
Like most events in parenting, the kids had no idea this was a “big deal”.
The night before the momentous occasion, I was chatting with a friend who mentioned his kids (the same ages as ours) had started sleeping in the same room, without mom to lulling them to sleep.
The next morning, I proposed the idea to my kids. They enthusiastically agreed to the idea.
My daughter had previously talked a big game about sleeping in her own room but always reneged in the afternoon. This time she had a partner in crime, and this time they stuck.
We moved the beds in the afternoon, and I could see their excitement building up.
At bedtime, my wife offered to join them in the rearranged bedroom while they fell asleep.
No need.
The next evening, our boy decided to go to bed before his sister. Again, my wife offered to sit with him.
No need.
He fell asleep by himself. Twenty minutes later, our daughter did the same.
How quickly time flies! Every day moves ponderously; then the kids suddenly cross another threshold.
If I knew they would so quickly acclimate to their new normal, I would have savored our last couple of nights sharing a small bedroom.
But that was yesterday. Now I need to avoid missing everything else.