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It was quite the amateur mistake.
I mean, for someone who blogs about sex, that is.
Of all people, I should know the necessity of a locked bedroom door during sex.
Yet, there we were as the 8-year-old strolled into the room at 1:30 a.m.
I’m sure a cartoon bubble appeared above my head with the words, “Really God?! We needed like another minute. Seriously. One. More. Minute.”
How does that ol’ biblical wisdom go?
Pride cometh before the fall.
(Which, for our purposes here, can be translated as, “Someone may find herself in a humbling position right as she remembers how she has adamantly told others about the value of using a bedroom lock.”)
Anyway, where was I?
One more minute and the sleepy-eyed small person would have meandered in to find two completely relaxed, satisfied — and covered — parents.
Instead, he walked in and… well, honestly, I don’t think he caught on to anything, because we were so coy and clever. We smoothly transitioned into normal sleeping positions while filling the room with, “Hey buddy! Couldn’t you sleep? Do you need a drink? Did you have a bad dream? We’ll give you a pony for Christmas if you go back to your room for 10 more minutes.”
Yeah, he was oblivious to our forced awkward verbiage.
He continued on his path straight to the floor next to my side of the bed, where we have on occasion told him he could come sleep. If the door isn’t locked.
Oh, the irony.
He may have gathered something was amiss when instead of finding the blanket that is normally there for him, he kept trying to use my hastily thrown pajamas to cover himself up. He even said with complete annoyance, “These aren’t my blanket?! Where is my blanket?!”
Despite my best attempts to coax him back to his room, he set up camp right where he was, complete with stuffed animals and so forth. After all, this is a space where we do let him sleep. If our door isn’t locked. Did I already mention our door wasn’t locked?
It was frustrating to say the least. I mean, clearly, we hadn’t reached our destination, which despite all the interruptions and fumbling for modesty, still kind of seemed within reach, even if not within reach in our own room.
It was like everything in my body was militantly yelling, “Stay the course! For the love of country, stay the course!!”
What could we do, though?
I mean, we couldn’t lock him in our bedroom.
First of all, that’s not even possible. Secondly, what parent really wants their kid sitting in therapy some day, blaming his woes on the time his parents barricaded him in their own bedroom so they could go have sex in his?
Uh, no thanks.
And, anyway, there’s not even a lock on his door.
So, we didn’t exactly barricade him in our room.
Let’s just say some noisy toys may or may not have been strategically placed should a small person decide at 1:45 a.m. to sleepily wander from one part of the house (like his parents’ bedroom) to another part of the house.
Yeah, that may or may not have happened.
Moral of the story? Have a lock on your bedroom door. Actually use it.
Copyright 2013, Julie Sibert. Intimacy in Marriage Blog.