Sharing

It broke my heart a few months ago when my boys told me that they wanted their own rooms.  Growing up, one of my fondest memories was sharing a room, talking till all hours, and even playing games of truth-or-dare where we dared one another to do things downstairs without our parents finding out.  Fun, fun memories.  Oh, my gosh, don't even get me started.  There was this one time that Ashlee dared me to sneak downstairs and ring the doorbell.  I did.  Ninja, I tell you.  My dad probably allowed us to think we were that cleaver and funny, but he came up and asked if we'd heard anything.  Feigned innocence:  "NNNOOOOO, we didn't hear anything!"  {Stifling giggles}

Brennon and Tyson have shared a room as long as we've been in Richland.  Tyson's whole remembered life, even.  Brennon's, too, probably.  For years, they even shared a double bed bottom bunk.  When we moved into our last house was the first time they had their own twin beds, but still shared a room.  When Caden was gone, the kids realized they could all have their own room, so they did.  It was harder to have the boys separate than it was to give Shelby Caden's room.

Last week the boys both commented that they wished shared a room again.  Since we still have the bunk bed, with Brennon using the double bed bottom bunk by himself, I suggested that Tyson just try sleeping on the top bunk.  He's chosen to sleep there every night since.  Once again I find myself yelling up the stairs for them to "stop talking, and go to sleep," but I don't really mind.  My heart goes to bed happy hearing their talking, laughing, and quiet reminders that they need to be quiet.  And then start talking again.  There is something so magical about siblings that get along and want to share stories well into the night.