It was just past 10 p.m. when I found myself lying next to my 9-year-old daughter, Lily. I had arrived home from work about half an hour earlier and noticed she was still awake. Stepping into her room to say goodnight, I spotted her sitting cross-legged on her bed, flashlight in hand, wearing her favorite pink pajamas adorned with unicorns. With wide, anxious blue eyes, she looked up at me and confessed, “I’m scared.”
Instead of brushing her fears aside, I took a moment to talk with her. I asked what frightened her, but she couldn’t articulate it. Then, she requested that I lie down next to her. I had several options: I could have advised her to be brave, told her that there was nothing to fear, or mentioned my own to-do list for the night, which included dinner and a shower. In my childhood, my parents often dismissed my requests for comfort at night, but this time, I chose differently. I simply took a deep breath and climbed into bed beside her.
A few weeks prior, when I came home late to find my 11-year-old son, Max, feeling scared, I had done the same. Even my youngest, when she stumbles into my room at night, gets the same treatment. I don’t resist; I just snuggle up and offer some comfort.
I know some people might argue that comforting older kids fosters dependency and might hinder their independence. They might predict that my children will end up on a talk show lamenting their struggles in adulthood, claiming they’d be thriving if only I hadn’t been there to soothe them at night. But honestly, I find that hard to believe. What I can say for sure is that I don’t lie down next to my kids solely for their sake; I have my own reasons too.
I juggle two jobs and often leave before my kids wake up, returning home long after they’ve gone to bed. Many days, the only opportunity I have to engage with them is at night. Those moments when they feel scared often become the rare occasions for me to connect with them one-on-one. For instance, when I lie down with Max, he opens up about his day, shares stories about classmates he struggles with, and seeks my advice. He tends to share more in those quiet moments than he does during the hustle of daily life.
Lily, too, becomes more expressive at bedtime. She’s likely to share her thoughts and feelings when she’s scared, showing a side of her that typically stays hidden during the day. Even with my youngest, Chloe, I cherish whatever adorable chatter she shares, even if I can’t always make sense of it.
As a busy dad, I wouldn’t trade those intimate moments for anything. I know many busy parents feel the same. While stay-at-home parents spend all day with their kids, there’s something profoundly rewarding about being there to comfort a frightened child and enjoying a distraction-free moment to really listen.
So that night, as I lay next to Lily, she nestled into my side, breathing softly against my ribs. Initially tense from her fear of the dark, she gradually relaxed. Not long after, she began to share stories about her teacher and the amusing things that happen at school, even discussing a game her friends invented for recess. Soon enough, she drifted off to sleep, leaving me with a full heart. As I quietly slipped out from under her arm and headed downstairs for a late dinner, I felt grateful for those fleeting moments that made the long day worth it.
I need that connection as much as my kids do.
For more on parenting, check out our other posts about home insemination kits, such as this one, which provides useful insights. Additionally, resources like this can help you understand more about pregnancy and home insemination.
Summary
Despite my kids growing older, I still find joy in lying down with them at night when they’re scared. These moments provide us with opportunities to connect and share meaningful conversations, creating lasting memories.
Keyphrase: Kids Bedtime Comfort
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