At 7 and a half years old, my son is heading into second grade, and I still find myself lying beside him until he drifts off to sleep. He’s a bundle of energy, always deep in thought, his mind racing as his body fidgets alongside it. While he enjoys a good cuddle, he’s not the type to snuggle back. Unlike my younger child, who melts into my arms, he remains rigid, never having been one to easily succumb to sleep—not as an infant, not as a toddler, not in his early childhood. Unwinding is a process for him, and he’s always needed support—something that hasn’t changed.
When it comes to bedtime, he prefers me over his dad, and though his father can step in on occasion, I’m the one he favors most nights. Is it because I’m his mom, bringing a unique sense of comfort? Or perhaps it’s due to our countless nights spent in this ritual? It’s likely a combination of all these factors. And despite the exhaustion that often accompanies it, I cherish this time together.
As soon as the lights go out, he starts to relax. Sometimes, he shares worries that have been weighing on him, thoughts that have lingered for weeks, finally ready to be voiced. Other times, he’s eager to talk about his latest obsession with video games or cartoons—an interest he seems to dive into headfirst. Each moment feels significant and sacred to both of us.
This summer, we moved, adding to his anxiety. Bedtime, which used to take about 20 minutes, has stretched much longer recently. He will often choke out, “I can’t fall asleep,” to which I reassure him, “I know you will. Your body needs rest, and it will come.” In the past, when things took too long, I could excuse myself, saying I needed a snack, and let his dad take over. But that option has been off the table lately.
One night, after what felt like an eternity, I began to feel my patience wane. It was nearing 10 p.m., and I was exhausted from a long day with the kids. I started to resent the fact that I was the only one who could soothe him to sleep, making my parenting duties feel longer than my husband’s. Just as I was about to slip away, I heard a soft sigh, followed by my son emerging from his room, squinting against the kitchen light. “I just really need you to stay,” he said, tears brimming in his eyes. In that moment, my annoyance melted away, replaced by a wave of regret. I wrapped him in my arms, apologizing, unsure if my earlier frustration had registered with him, but feeling genuinely remorseful.
His straightforward expression of need struck me deeply. Despite being highly intelligent and articulate, like many kids—especially those who are particularly thoughtful—he struggles to convey his feelings clearly.
While many may find our routine unconventional, it works for us, and I trust that he will eventually outgrow it. I hope that through these countless hours spent together—first with him nestled at my breast, then in my arms, and now simply with my presence—I’ve shown him that his feelings matter and that he can find safe spaces to express them.
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Summary
In this reflective piece, Laura Thompson shares her experiences of putting her son to bed as he navigates childhood anxieties, particularly after a recent move. Despite the challenges and frustrations, she values the connection they share during these moments, emphasizing the importance of emotional expression in parenting.