Comfort in the Stories We Tell

Standard

All was dark; all was not bright. But in the darkness sat a boy named Walter, and his pet alligator named Frank.

“How long have we been sitting here?” Questioned Walter into the void. He knew Frank was somewhere near him.

A low rumbly growl came from nearby, “A long time, Walter.”

“Frank, why is your breath so bad?”

“I haven’t been able to brush my teeth since the lights went out.”

“Why do you think the stories stopped?”

“I think Wyatt’s dad has forgotten about us.”

For a period of time, my bedtime routine with Wyatt included stories about Walter and Frank. Until one day… those stories stopped. I’m not sure why I quit telling of their adventures with their mighty robot. Or why I quit expanding the weirder aspects of their universe, with characters such as the ninja dolphins.

All of that changed the other night, as I put Wyatt to bed. I pulled Walter and Frank from the darkness. Starting the story just as I did above.

  • Turning the creative lights on once more.
  • Firing up the mighty robot.
  • Adventuring.
  • And, as always, concluding with milk and cookies provided by Walter’s mom.

There is comfort in the stories we tell. And there is no need to leave anyone in the dark, most of all, Walter and Frank.

How Night Terrors Forced My Family To Unplug

Standard

You never forget the moment where you wake up to your child screaming. The bleary-eyed rushing to their room only to find them awake but not awake. The early night terrors Wyatt experienced were full of him:

  • Tracking objects, with his eyes, that were not there… but if you watched him, you’d think there was something.
  • Shivering, teeth chattering to the point you’d think that they might break.
  • Pure terror.

Night terrors make a parent feel helpless as it is hard to convince someone, who isn’t awake, that there is nothing trying to kill them.

Tabitha and I started to notice a pattern though. Looking at our bedtime routine, we were watching TV, specifically playing videogames, up until the point Wyatt went to bed. So we re-evaluated our evening routine and turned off the television. 

For me, being the dad who loves sharing gaming with his kid, this killed me. KILLED ME! The effort it takes to read a book aloud or play a boardgame is far more than turning on the TV and playing a game. Call this being a lazy dad at the time, I admit it now. But our evenings changed for the better. The night terrors, which seem to be caused by a combination of electronic stimuli and tiredness, slowly faded away. Over the years, with each book we read aloud, each boardgame we played, we slowly learned to interact more as a family in the evenings.

Today, I can’t say everything is perfect. The night terrors like to rear their heads on the occasion (but are more infrequent). We still watch TV shows before bed, but we have learned that certain TV shows don’t seem to trigger the night terrors as much as others (I think it has something to do with the amount of blinking lights). Our family reading time has segued into Wyatt having his own reading time at night.

My Little Scythe

Smart parenting often requires sacrifice. In our case, that has meant moving any gaming time away from bedtime (we’ve noticed that an hour buffer works). I’ve learned that I can still game with my son but that often it is good to shake things up with no screens. The battlefield of the Chess board, the trophies of My Little Scythe, all work together to make non-screen memories and keep the night terrors at bay.