Last night, we went through the whole bedtime routine—baths, stories, lullabies, and the usual “stay in your own beds and I’ll make extra pancakes” deal. Lira, my daughter, has a bedroom that’s practically a unicorn fairyland with twinkle lights, while Cyrus, my son, is across the hall in his dino-themed fortress, buried in stuffed animals. I tucked them in, gave out final hugs, closed their doors, and thought—finally, a little quiet time.
Then around 2 a.m., I woke up to this strange stillness. Not even a rustle from the baby monitor. Something felt… off. Curiosity (and a touch of mom-panic) had me creeping down the hallway to check on them.
Lira’s bed? Empty. Her blankie was on the floor, and her favorite doll was nowhere to be seen. My pulse kicked up. I headed to Cyrus’s room—also empty. Covers half-off the bed, but no kid in sight. Cue the full-blown “where the heck are my children?” mode.
Just then, I heard the softest giggle. I stopped in my tracks, heart thudding. It came from the hallway. For a second, I thought maybe they were playing, which felt ridiculous because bedtime is usually a battle, not a party.
I crept toward the sound, every step careful and slow. And then, at the far end of the hallway, I saw something that made me stop cold.
There they were—Lira and Cyrus—fast asleep, curled up in a nest of blankets right between their bedrooms. Lira had her head tucked against Cyrus’s chest, and his little arm was slung protectively over her. It looked like they’d drifted off in the middle of a quiet sibling moment. Peaceful. Innocent. Completely adorable.
I just stood there, smiling like an idiot, feeling that kind of warmth only your kids can give you when they do something unexpectedly sweet. They were supposed to be sleeping separately, but here they were, drawn to each other in the middle of the night, like they just couldn’t stand being apart.
At first, I wanted to scoop them up and put them back in their beds. But watching them sleep like that, so close and content—I couldn’t bring myself to disturb it. I sat beside them on the floor for a while, just taking it in.
And that’s when it hit me: my kids are growing up.