My kids are six and ten and I still can’t stand to close their bedroom doors at night. Just like when they were babies, I often wake in the night sure that one or both of them might be in distress. If I leave the doors open between us, I feel like a better mom. With doors open, the slightest noise – a sneeze, or cough, the sound of breathing, or not breathing, or swallowing, or rolling over, or sleep talking, sends my head sproinging off the pillow, and my ears stretching out the door, into the hall and around the corner – the better to hear them with.
“Who’s dying?” I think, Read More