“The night is dark, and full of terrors.”
So says one of the characters on the popular television program Game of Thrones. The same character also gives birth to an adult-sized shadow demon that crawls out of her womb and floats straight to an enemy camp to murder a rival. So, you know … grain of salt.
I have, however, come to understand a new kind of night terror now that I’m a parent. I cherish my sleep – now more than ever, given how often it is stolen from me – but the thing about sleep is that you are not awake. And if you’re not awake, you can’t see or hear things that are going on around you.
Sorry if I’m getting too technical here for some readers – Trump supporters, for example – but the point is that as a parent you spend all your waking hours making sure that your young children are safe. When you are sleeping, however, you don’t know what they are doing. As long as your children are quiet, they could basically do whatever they want every night during your deep sleep hours and you’ll never know it.
One night a couple of years ago I awoke to find my elder son, then just three years old, calmly sitting on the couch in our living room eating a box of crackers. I shuffled him off to bed, chuckling at his toddler audacity. It wasn’t until the next morning that I found the extent of his midnight roaming. On my iPhone there were dozens of photos taken around the house, mostly just fuzzy dark shots of the floor.
There were a few things that amazed me about this discovery: 1) I didn’t know he could reach my iPhone perched on a high ledge 2) I didn’t know he knew how to use my iPhone 3) His photography skills were already better than mine.
I also didn’t know he could reach my private cracker stash, but I fully respect the late-night salt binge – it’s a proud part of my family heritage dating back to my great great great grandfather, Andrew Redenbacher.
Another time a few years later I awoke to find my younger son sitting in his crib, casually flipping through a soccer magazine. He couldn’t read, of course, and he also couldn’t get out of his crib. Or so I thought. Later that day I was shocked when he launched into a long rant about the deplorable conditions facing the migrant workers building World Cup stadiums in Qatar.
These episodes made it clear to me that late at night my boys are almost always in bed sleeping, but once in a while they’re not. You hear stories about kids who wake up in the middle of the night and wander right out of the house without their parents knowing about it.
Luckily that has never happened in my house. I mean, as far as I know. I suppose one of the boys could have slipped out one night and gone for a forest romp with a pack of wild cougars. If he was quiet enough on the way in, and wiped off his muddy boots, we’d never know until we discovered the dead rabbits stashed under his pillow.
Deep down, though, all parents know the truth. As youngsters, I’m sure nearly all of us got into shenanigans while our parents were fast asleep just down the hall. Don’t deny it. Even my wife, who could have been the next Mother Teresa if she hadn’t fallen for my sexy charms, has admitted to at least one late-night shimmy out the basement window to meet up with friends. She insists that it was only to go to Wendy’s for ice cream treats.
For the sake of brevity, let’s just say that I also only snuck out once and it was also to go to Wendy’s.
“Hey Andy,” you might say, “I don’t remember there being a Wendy’s in your hometown when you were growing up.”
“Well, reader,” I might answer. “It might have been McDonald’s. Or maybe it was that brothel down the street – the owner, as I recall, was called Wendy.”
Our parents never seemed to know what was up. Or did they? Now that I’m a parent, I’ve realized that when the battle is sleep versus parenting, sleep often wins. And really, if you’re asleep there’s nothing you can do. Because, you know, you’re unconscious.
So I’m at peace with it now. If the boys are silent and don’t wreck anything – most of all themselves – I’ll never know. Ignorance is bliss, eh boys?
Just watch out for those shadow demons. And say hi to Wendy for me.
Andy Prest is the sports editor for the North Shore News and writes a biweekly humour/lifestyle column. He can be reached via email at [email protected].
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