I can laugh about my son’s somnambulic exploits, but for other families the results can be much more serious.
By Gavin Newsham
It was around 2.30am when I heard a creak of the floorboards and some shuffling outside our bedroom. Then the door swung open and, silhouetted by the land ing light, was the shadowy figure of my teenage son, Frank, sleepwalking again. “Have you got any scissors?” he asked, staring into the distance.
Tempted though I was to hand him a pair and turn over and go back to sleep, I did what I always do and guided him slowly back to his bed, making sure he was safely back under his covers.
Frank has been a sleepwalker (and sleeptalker) since he was young. Night after long night, he would wander off around the house, babbling away as though he were speaking in tongues.
There have too many incidents to mention. He has climbed inside wardrobes, emptied drawers, taken showers, raided the fridge on countless occasions and, once, he even awoke in the bath with his duvet ...
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