I thought I'd do it until he moved out. I thought every single night that he was home, I'd push his door open just to check on my little man. My oldest little man. But then something happened.
It's been a few weeks since it hit me that I had stopped checking on him before I called it lights out. It's been my ritual since the day the child was born. I thought about it for a minute, but was left with a blank. And then that evening, I did it again. I didn't check on him. And I thought about it the next day, trying to understand why this routine changed.
Last night, it hit me. It's so clear. So evident.
It's no surprise that Ethan is not a sleeper, but he used to go to sleep before ten or eleven. Or at least, he was asleep by the time I went to bed. But then he wasn't. He frequently is awake when I call it quits.
And so I quit checking on him.
If he was quiet, I was afraid he was finally settling down and my disturbance would end with a ten minute conversation over who knows what. I was afraid that my disturbance would launch yet another spurt of energy and I'd be listening to him playing while I was trying to go to sleep.
And so I quit.
I'm sad. I thought I'd always do this. Until he moved out. Even though my reasons are legit, I feel bad that I gave up something that meant so much to me.