When my kids were little, sharing a room was a non-issue. Our infants co-slept, spending most nights in our bed, and as long as they had play areas, they were content. However, as our family expanded and matured, we decided it was essential for them to have their own spaces. When searching for a new home, our primary focus was on size.
Upon moving, their new bedrooms were almost double the size of their previous shoebox-like quarters. Our eldest and youngest now had separate rooms, while the two middle siblings shared a spacious room that felt enormous compared to their old one. For months, I gathered colorful, kid-friendly decor—purchasing vibrant pictures and playful lamps—to create inviting spaces where they would feel happy and want to stay.
But as the saying goes, the best-laid plans often go awry. After a year in our new home, while they love their rooms during the day, nighttime brings the familiar refrain: “Mom, can I sleep with my brothers?”
It puzzles me. The brand-new bed for our youngest remains in pristine condition, having been slept in only a few times. Our eldest, who has a stylish bed that gives his room a studio apartment vibe, also prefers not to sleep there. Instead, bedtime finds them crammed together in the bottom bunk of the shared room, not taking advantage of the top bunk at all. At ages 11, 9, 7, and 4, they are hardly small, with my preschooler nearly the same size as my second-grader. When you consider the blankets and pillows, there’s barely enough room for them, leading to a tangle of elbows, knees, and heads.
“Why not sleep in your own beds?” I suggest most nights. “You’ll feel so much better!” I worry about their sleep quality—surely they can’t be comfortable—and the repercussions of insufficient rest: poor performance at school, grumpy attitudes, and all the things a concerned mother tends to fret over.
However, each night I check on them, and there they are, blissfully asleep in a heap of limbs. They resemble a litter of puppies, with heads resting on shoulders and hands intertwined. It’s during these moments they bond. Although they argue and annoy each other throughout the day, at night they transform into a picture of sibling affection. The transition from daytime squabbles to nighttime snuggles is inexplicable.
While I may occasionally encourage them to sleep separately, this is one battle I’m not willing to wage. Yes, their beds go largely unused. Yes, they look uncomfortably cramped together in a sweaty pile. But I recognize that these moments are fleeting. They won’t always sleep like this. By cuddling together, they offer one another an unspoken assurance against the nightly fears that lurk in the dark, reinforcing that someone will always be close by. I believe this silent bond will help cultivate a lifelong sense of loyalty and support among them.
This is why I firmly stand my ground on other nightly routines—like bedtime and brushing teeth—while allowing this one exception. Their closeness, in this stage of life, is just as crucial as the rest they might be missing.
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In summary, while my children may not sleep independently, I choose to embrace this phase. Their nightly snuggles foster a bond that will last a lifetime, transcending the challenges of childhood and nurturing their sibling relationship.