In his 4-year old brain, Luke thinks everyone is supposed to have their own bedroom. Our master bedroom where his father and I sleep is “Mommy’s room.” The guest bedroom is “Daddy’s room,” and of course Luke has his own room.

Brantley and I have explained to him a million times that it isn’t just Mommy’s room- it’s Mommy AND Daddy’s room. These conversations have all been pointless and you’re about to find out why.

My long-time friend, Robin O’bryant was in town for a speaking engagement, and was staying with us. Luke LOVES her and all day long I had been hearing, “Is Miss Robin here yet?” “Where’s Miss Robin?” When is Miss Robin going to get here?” “Is Miss Robin going to bring she’s girls?”

When Robin finally arrived, he looked at her numerous heavy bags, turned on the chivalry, and offered to carry her pillow upstairs to her room. “You’re going to be sweeping in my Daddy’s room,” he told her.

“Um Lori,” she laughed. “Is there something we need to talk about?”

The “Mommy and Daddy share a bedroom and that’s why they sleep in the same bed,” conversation was had AGAIN.

Later that night, Robin read a book to Luke and told him goodnight. As soon as she gave him a kiss and left the room he started getting antsy and restless.


“What is it, buddy?”

“I sure do wish I could sleep in that other room with my Dad and Miss Robin.”


I have tried my best to institute a daily quiet time from around 2-4pm. Luke stays in his room, or so he’s told and I get time to myself to read, write, watch grown up TV, or nap. It’s fantastic when it works, but today was not one of those days.

“Hey Mom, how many more minutes til you fall asleep?”
“I don’t know, but even if I do you cannot come in here and get my iPad.”

Away he stomped to his bedroom, but that wouldn’t be the last of him. I had been asleep for probably less than a minute when I felt my bed move. “Lucas Payne Wescott, where are you?” I shouted.

“In my room,” came a voice from under my bed where was army crawling toward my nightstand and, therefore my iPad. “Get out from under there now!” I commanded. He did as he was told, and when he appeared on my side of the bed I could see he was wearing only a shirt. “Seriously, Lucas? Where is your underwear?”

“Mom, it’s quiet time. My underwear was too noisy. I was trying to be quiet,” he answered as if I had asked him the dumbest question he had ever heard.

I pulled a pillow over my head. “Go back to your room and put your clothes back on.”

“Yes, madam,” he said. “Uh, one more fing. Can I pway wif your iPad?”