DADWAGON

The Traditional Family

Last night, JP was frightened by the various things that go bump in the night and refused to go to sleep. After several hours of comforting him, singing songs, removing myriad frightening objects–books, toys, the vacuum cleaner I left there earlier in the day–I left him get in bed with me.

Before anyone jumps the gun, this isn’t a post about the perils/virtues of co-sleeping (btw–I totally object to the term “The Family Bed,” which I think should be banned along with many other vague, awkward euphemisms: significant other, visually challenged, etc). The more you obsess about things like sleeping policy, I think, the more things go awry . I wasn’t allowed into my parents’ bed as a kid, except when I was–and usually crying, nightmares, or something else was involved. Tomorrow night, JP goes back to his own bed.

What did get me was that when we got in bed, JP asked for his Curious George doll (check), asked if Frankie the dog would be joining us in bed (yes), if Henry the cat would (off and on), if my girlfriend would (no, out of town on business), if Mommy would (no!), and…wait for it…if Mommy’s girlfriend would.

Thus I have entered the 21st century.