We were just drifting off to sleep.
“I hear the children making noise” my husband with better hearing than me said.
I held perfectly still straining to hear what he was hearing.
Then immediately, “Hello 8, what are you doing?” I still hadn’t heard anything. I couldn’t figure out what he was talking about. Twisting about to look for the small child I finally saw him standing perfectly still in the door.
“8? What are you doing? Come here” I called. He walked slowly to me and stood by the bed trembling, I thought, in the dark. Reaching for him I pulled him close. “Are you ok 8? Did you have a bad dream?” He still stood, unmoving.
I hugged him, holding him there, because that’s what moms do.
“Lets go back to bed 8” Said his father, beause that’s what dads do.
8 turned away and silently followed his father back to his bed where he got tucked in and sent back to sleep.
This morning we asked if he had had any dreams. No, of course not. Did he remember anything at all from last night? No, nothing. Why?
And that is when we decided he’s moving back to the bottom bunk. Sleep walking is one thing. Sleep climbing down the ladder from way up high is something else entirely.