Every night at dinner, I ask my kids to tell me what was the best thing about their day, and what was the worst thing.

My daughter often tells me that the worst part was not having a pop quiz. Which is followed by me thinking to myself, “Please, please, please, let her continue to be a freak of nature and LOVE school so much that the most horrible thing she can think of is that she wasn’t challenged enough.” The best part of her day is usually that she did something cool in science class, or that she and her best friend have come up with yet another secret handshake.

My son starts with the worst part of his day, and it always varies. It can be that a friend didn’t share the bike at school, or that he was sad when his sister got hurt at soccer practice, or that he was punished for not listening.

Then I ask him, “What was the BEST part of your day?”

And, without fail, every single night, he will look around the room at all of us, point at the dinner table and say, “This”.

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For almost six months, when my daughter was a baby, she slept in our bed. This wasn’t me being a nurturing mother. This wasn’t co-sleeping. This was an eighteen-pound baby lying on my chest because she wouldn’t sleep in her crib. Out of desperation, her father and I brought her into our room, and within a week, she had managed to slither on top of me and nuzzle her face in my neck. We slept like that every night, until she got so big that her sweaty body felt like a Toyota on my chest.

She still frequently climbs into our bed. Bad dreams, noises, upset tummy and trips to the potty end with a visit to our room. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve wondered why things are suddenly a lot more crowded, and I have a lot less blanket.

But, my five year old son…well, he’s an entirely different story. He has NEVER slept in our bed. Well, maybe once, because he was sick and we forced him to. Not only that, he won’t get out of his bed unless we physically go into his room and tell him to get up. Not even on weekend mornings, when we would delight in having him watch cartoons with his sister while we sleep in.

The other night, when he went to bed with an upset stomach, then woke at 4:00 AM moaning and whining, I ran to his room and climbed in bed with him. It only took a minute to realize that his twin bed and my pinched nerve were no match, and since he wasn’t feeling well I thought he should come sleep with us. But when I asked him if he wanted to, he put his hand on my arm, stopped moaning, and in a strangled whisper said, “No. You go.” As if he was a gallant hero who was uttering his last words…”I’ll be okay. Just save yourself.”

As I climbed from his bed, I said, “I really think you should come sleep with Mommy.” But suddenly, he was a lot less chivalrous, though still full of drama…when instead of uttering a word, he simply turned his face to his wall and pointed to the door.

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Did you ever notice how many things no one tells you about parenting before you have kids? I’m not talking about how you’ll never sleep again. Plenty of people told me that. No, I mean the little things. For instance, no one ever told me…

That I would keep empty water bottles in my car for my son to pee in when we’re on the road.

That my longest fingernail would become the “booger-picker-outer”, and if that didn’t work, I’d retrieve boogers with a toothpick.

That I would wipe snot off my son’s face with a leaf.

That kids like to hide things around the house and you won’t find them for a long, long time. Things like cups full of milk, dirty underwear, and sandwiches.

That it’s necessary to cheat at Chutes and Ladders, or else the game goes on forever.

That poop becomes hard and crusty when removed from a diaper and smeared onto a coffee table.

That I would actually say things like, “You’re not allowed to stick your finger in the dog’s butt” or “You can’t drink water out of the toilet”.

Or, that I would have to call poison control, because my daughter would drink the toilet water anyway.

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