One of my daughter’s favorite childhood memories is of sleeping with Grandma Helena. At the age of 2 when I was having trouble getting her to bed, Mom offered to let Betsy sleep with her, and it worked like a charm. My little 2-yearold would docilely climb in Grandma’s big bed, they would chat or read books and soon she’d be sound asleep. This tradition continued for several years.
What a charming and sweet memory for a granddaughter to cherish, and I had my chance to establish the same tradition the last time I visited St. Louis.
Only my story has a different ending.
It began one evening when I took care of the children while Betsy and Steve went out. The twins were sleeping soundly, but Natalie and I stayed up watching TV and movies. I introduced her to Blue Bloods and Tom Selleck although she irreverently called Tom (my matinee idol) “mustache guy.”
Since Natalie had recently moved into the guest room but was obliged to move back in with her little sister during my visit, I thought it would be nice if she simply slept with me that night. Besides, both Betsy and I got nostalgia thinking how wonderful it would be for this grandma/ granddaughter custom to continue.
When bedtime rolled around, my granddaughter and I climbed in and opened our books. She’s an avid reader, and I’ve been called a bookworm, so we peaceably read for some time. Finally, it was lights out, and we closed our eyes.
I’d like to say we both slept soundly and this tradition was reborn in the next generation, but that’s not quite what happened.
When morning arrived, Natalie hopped quickly out of bed in her usual manner and got dressed and ready for school. She’s 9 years old and takes care of herself quite well. I stayed in bed until she went downstairs.
Climbing slowly out of bed, I wondered why I didn’t feel rested. Then I remembered. Natalie was a restless sleeper. Throughout the night, I’d been awakened by thrashing arms and legs. No wonder I was feeling bleary, I thought, making a bee-line for the coffee machine.
In the kitchen, Nat greeted me cheerfully, and I wished her a good day as she grabbed her backpack and cello and ran out to catch the bus.
Once she was gone, Betsy asked how the sleep-over went. “Well….” I couldn’t lie. “She’s a kicker. Jumps around quite a bit…” I let my words trail, and gulped morecoffee.WasIaterrible grandmother? Why couldn’t I be more like mom? Maybe I should have lied and said the night was fine.
Betsy had a funny look on her face. “What?” I said. She knew something. “What?” I demanded.
“Natalie says you snore.”
Oh.
Natalie and I still have several other traditions and will find more, but sleepovers won’t be one of them.
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