While watching the final season of the Tudors, King Henry VIII was ill and his (6th) wife insisted that pending the resolution of his illness, her (Catherine Barr’s) bed be moved to the King’s room so that she could take care of him. This idea of husband and wife sleeping in different rooms raised fond memories of my childhood.
Growing up in the 80’s, my dad and mum slept in different rooms. As the eldest, I slept in the same bed with my dad (a privilege to me). Note, I was still tender (and never knew what manner of sorcery was used to create babies), so I assumed dad and mum were destined to sleep separately.
Something interesting happened; we moved to a new city (1991) and on the first night, as I was about to jump into my dad’s bed, my mum waltzed in and ordered me to relocate to her room (which ended up as my room till I moved out). I looked to my dad for help but the guy had a smug look on his face. I screamed and threw tantrums as to why this woman was dislodging me from my birthright. In the end all I got was the door slammed shut in my face. 10 months later, the youngest boy was conceived.
Ever since, they have slept on the same bed till this day. Looking back, it was laughable that parents slept in different bedrooms (I am guessing it was a form of birth control).
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