Do you remember your childhood bedtimes? I remember mine. Until I was six or seven, I always got a goodnight kiss from my parents. Later, they opened the bedroom door and said, “G’night.” I hit adolescence, started junior high, and by my teenage years, was watching television later than my mother and father stayed up. The routine faded. Goodnight became something mumbled, if bothered with at all.
When I began running the orphanage, I quickly recognized the importance of bedtime. For one thing, it was when the newest kids cried or looked lost. This makes sense, when you think about it. In the joyous freedom of sunlight and playmates, you can forget that your mother or family is no longer around.