Closer

Anyone who cosleeps can tell you that sometimes, on some nights, a king sized bed just isn't enough. Rowan has his own bed, in our room, and has the ability to sleep wherever he prefers. Sometimes, that's his bed, sometimes, it's ours. Some nights, he wants his own space, some nights, he wants to cuddle. That's fine with us. He's still a very little boy. Lately, he's been sleeping more in our bed. He's growing, so he's physically a little uncomfortable, and seems to sleep better when snuggled up to the Human Blast Furnace that is his Papa. Unfortunately, that means he's also next to Kestrel, who, like most babies his age, flails unbelievably. Whomever said the unfortunate phrase "sleep like a baby" has obviously never coslept. Kes is all over the place, sometimes because he's looking for comfort, sometimes because he's signalling that he has to pee. Either way, we've all gotten our share of Kestrel-inflicted bumps. Eventually, it'll mellow out, and he'll sleep like his brother, who at this point pours himself into bed, and doesn't move or stir for 10 or more hours. Sleeps more like a teenager than a baby, really. Last night, Kestrel was flailing. Lots of stimulation, a very busy day, and some unusual items in his diet, combined with teething and growing, and bammo, you have the SuperMobile baby. Flip. Flop. Flip. Flop. Pound. Thumpthumpthump. Flail. Mumble. Repeat. Finally, in desperation, I grabbed him and snuggled him in close, really close. Wrapped an arm around him, nestled his head up onto my shoulder... ...and felt his whole body relax. He melted into me like a symbiote, and immediately was soundly, motionlessly, blessedly asleep. And really, how many things is that a metaphor for? We, all of us, do better sometimes when we're closer. When the people who love us best make room for us right beside them, so we can snuggle in, absorb the warmth and the smell and the security, and settle in, in peace. Closer is the answer.