I Just Really Need You to Stay

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It’s summer before second grade, and my son, who’s 7 and a half, still needs me to lie down with him until he drifts off to sleep. He’s like a live wire, always deep in thought, his body a whirlwind of movement that matches his racing mind. Physical affection isn’t his strong suit; he’ll let me cuddle him, but he doesn’t always reciprocate. Unlike his younger brother, he stays stiff in my arms and has never been one to fall asleep easily. It takes him a while to relax, and he’s always needed my help to do so.

While his dad can sometimes step in, I’m usually the go-to person for bedtime. Why is that? Maybe it’s the innate bond between mother and child, or perhaps it’s just the routine we’ve built over countless nights. Whatever the reason, I have to admit—I love being the one he wants by his side, even if it means some late nights.

Once the lights go out, he starts to unwind. Sometimes he shares worries that have been brewing inside him for weeks. Other times, he dives into detailed accounts of his latest obsessions, whether it’s Minecraft or some new show. Each topic feels significant and sacred to both of us.

This summer, we moved, which brought a wave of added anxiety. What used to be a 20-minute routine has stretched out, with him occasionally lamenting, “I can’t fall asleep.” I reassure him, “You will, buddy. Your body needs rest, and it will come.” In the past, I could sneak away if things got too long, letting his dad take over, but lately that option has been off the table.

There was one particularly long night where my patience wore thin. I tried to mask my frustration, but it was nearing 10 p.m., and I was exhausted. I felt a twinge of resentment that I was the only one who could settle him down and that my parenting shift was dragging on longer than my husband’s.

Finally, I heard that familiar sleepy sigh, and I quietly slipped out of the room. Just as I reached the kitchen, my son appeared, rubbing his eyes. “I just really need you to stay,” he said, his voice cracking with emotion and a few tears escaping. In that moment, all my annoyance melted away, replaced with regret for how I had felt earlier. I wrapped him in my arms and said, “I’m sorry, sweetheart.”

His ability to express his needs so simply and honestly left me in awe. He’s incredibly smart and articulate, but like many kids—especially those who think deeply—he doesn’t always communicate his feelings clearly.

I know that for many families, my approach may seem unrealistic. Not every parent needs to stay with their older kids at bedtime, but it works for us. I trust that he’ll outgrow this phase, but I hope that through all these moments—first cradling him as a baby, then holding him close, and now just being there to listen—I’ve shown him that his feelings are valid and that there are safe spaces to share them.

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In summary, parenting can be a long journey filled with unique challenges and precious moments. While my son still needs me at bedtime, I cherish the bond we share, and I know that this too shall pass.