Alright, let’s talk about this little thing I started doing. Bedtime, you know? It used to be kinda rushed. Get him into bed, maybe a quick story if I wasn’t too wiped out, lights out, done. Moved on to the next thing, cleaning up or whatever needed doing.
Making a Change
Then one day, it just kinda hit me. Felt like I was just going through the motions. Like, checking a box: kid is in bed. Check. But something was missing. It wasn’t really connecting, you know? Just… routine. I thought back to my own childhood, things I remembered, things I didn’t. Decided I needed to actually do something different, make it deliberate.
So, I started this simple practice. Real simple. After the story, or just after tucking him in if we skipped the story, I’d lean down. Every single night. And I’d say it: “Good night son, I love you.”
The Actual Steps
Sounds easy, right? And it is, mostly. But making it a real habit? That took conscious effort at first.
- Step 1: Finish up whatever we were doing – teeth brushing, story time, last drink of water.
- Step 2: Get him settled in bed. Tuck the blankets just right, or how he liked them that night.
- Step 3: Pause. Actually stop thinking about the dishes in the sink or the emails waiting. Just be there for a second.
- Step 4: Lean in close enough so he could hear it clearly, even if he was already drifting off.
- Step 5: Say the words. “Good night son, I love you.”
- Step 6: Wait a beat. Sometimes he’d mumble “love you too,” sometimes he was already asleep. Didn’t matter. Then, lights out and leave the room.
How It Went
First few times? Felt a tiny bit staged, I gotta admit. Like I was forcing this Hallmark moment. Kid probably didn’t even notice the difference at first. And yeah, some nights I’m dead tired. Really tired. Just want to collapse. It’s tempting to just yell ‘goodnight!’ from the doorway. But I made myself stick to it. Go in, tuck, say the words. Every time.
It became less awkward pretty fast. Turned into the natural end of the day. It wasn’t about waiting for a specific response from him, it was about me doing it. Making sure those words were the last thing, a definite thing, before sleep.
Now?
Now, it’s just part of the deal. Feels weird if I don’t do it. It’s the anchor at the end of the day. Doesn’t matter if the day was great or a total mess. Doesn’t matter if I was a patient dad or a grumpy one. That moment is like a reset. It’s a reminder for me, maybe more than for him sometimes. Just those five seconds, saying those words. It works. It’s simple, yeah, but it’s become really important. A bedrock thing.
