My bedtime routine leaves something to be desired.

I’m spending up to an hour each night sardined into my daughter’s twin bed (oh why, oh why didn’t I buy the double?) waiting for her to just pass out already.

This was not my idea. My kid claims she can’t fall asleep without a parent snuggled up beside her. Even after all the bathing, teeth brushing, hair detangling, story reading and stuffed animal choosing, she still needs help winding down in the form of made-up stories, “back scratchies” and the reassurance of my physical presence. Only then do the yawns start, her breathing deepens and she finally succumbs to sleep.

The whole process — which involves much wiggling and the occasional elbow to my face as she tries to get comfortable — can feel endless, and I become keenly aware that I am not (a) having dinner with my husband, (b) enjoying some well-deserved personal time or (c) catching up on reality TV with a glass of wine.

So why do I keep doing it? Why not just say goodnight and shut the door? Because only in the quiet darkness will my daughter finally tell me what’s on her mind:

“Mama, I said unkind words to Emma today,” she’ll confess, out of the blue.

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