Bedtime Revelations

by Cathy

The other night, while going through the bedtime ritual of laying with Ari for a few minutes before she fell asleep, she suddenly popped up from her cozy tucked in covers and said rather too excitedly, "I can count to 10 in French! Une, deux, trois..." On she went to ten, popping a little finger up each time to coincide with her thought process.

'Wow, that's great," I whispered. "Now lay down and go to sleep."
A few minutes of some shuffling passed before she sat up again.
"Mama?"
"Yes, honey?"
"How does the Earth become morning and nighttime?"
Pause.
"I'm serious," she continued. "I'm five years old and I don't know this. I have to know."
Sigh...I didn't know whether to laugh or hug her. I never want to stifle her thirst for knowledge so I gave a quick explanation using my hands about the Earth, the sun, the rotations, our location, etc. Even in the dark, I could see her face contort into slight confusion. She then told me that her teacher explained that the sun rotates faster than the Earth and couldn't believe it when I told her that the Earth was turning slowly as we spoke, right at this very minute.

I love the inquisitive and talkative side of my children...but at bedtime? Seriously?

Oftentimes, this is when they feel they can tell me about what they have learned, what they remembered, what they forgot to do, what happened in school that day or last week or even what will happen tomorrow. As you can infer from the above, from Ari (my five-year old), I get the most random combination of statements and questions. From Bella (my 10-year old), I get mostly "confessions."

Bella will usually blurt out something that she seemingly wants to get off her chest. As I'm leaning in to tuck her in, mid-hug, she will say something like, "I have a math test tomorrow" or "Mrs. so-and-so at school told me that I can't wear those khaki pants anymore because they're not part of uniform code" or some other issue that she has to confess before the clock strikes 12 and she turns into a pumpkin. Sometimes, I get frustrated if she raises a bigger or more complicated issue that obviously can't be handled in the dark as she's tucked in for bed at an already late hour; I attempt to acknowledge her concern but kindly tell her that we have to talk more about this at a more opportune time. She tells me that she likes to bring up things for us to talk about at bedtime because this is the only time it's truly quiet and we get to be alone - just the two of us.

Perhaps that is the real reason for her; perhaps the darkness of the room shields their face from embarrassment; perhaps the stillness of the room and the quiet of their minds allow certain thoughts to fertilize; or perhaps the preparation for school the next day stimulates thoughts idling in their heads. No matter the reason, I concluded that I don't really care.

What I do care about is that they always continue to share their minds, thoughts, concerns and questions with me, at bedtime, or any time.