Reset: Bedtime Brains and Doodle Therapy
Cartoons, confessions, and why the best sleep aid is sometimes a pencil and a parent.
Sometimes I wrestle my kids into bed; other times I end up wrestling their brains.
Three of my boys inherited my wife’s gift: asleep before their heads hit the pillow.
Jackson got mine: a restless brain that refuses to shut down. Equal parts creative problem-solving and doomsday scenarios. Think “Einstein meets Chicken Little” but in a ten-year-old body.
Some nights he comes downstairs to confess he wasn’t kind at school or snapped at his brother. We preach honesty in our family, so even though it’s past bedtime, these confessions are met with gratitude.
I get it, because I grew up with the same brain.
Only in my house, lights out meant lights out.
No exceptions.
My parents weren’t unkind, but the rule was firm. Bed meant silent stillness. Unfortunately, that just left me lying awake with my mind racing;
no outlet,
no tools,
no clue what to do with the churn.
So with Jackson, I’ve tried something different. At first, I gave him sticky notes and a pencil. He drew Pokémon, superheroes, and cartoon characters until he felt calmer. Sometimes it worked. Sometimes it just revved him up more; like giving a kid an energy drink and hoping for a nap.
Lately, we’ve built a menu of resets:
Mild: read in bed
Medium: draw quietly
Full stop reset: come down and connect with me
Sometimes that means snuggling.
Sometimes I read to him.
Sometimes, we draw together: switching halfway, adding to each other’s sketches, pointing out the cool details.
We focus our minds on something else, give each other compliments, and laugh. Eventually, the yawns kick in; a sign that we’ve taken back the reins from our racing brains.
Compliments.
Connection.
Calm.
And occasionally, questionable cartoon monsters.
The Science
Sleep researchers talk about the difference between sleep pressure (your body’s need for rest) and cognitive arousal (your brain refusing to shut down).
Kids like Jackson, and dads like me, often have plenty of sleep pressure but a mind that won’t let go.
Giving the brain an “off-ramp”: light, creative, or connecting activities.
That shift from overdrive into rest doesn’t happen by force; it happens by guidance.
The Reflection
I used to think parenting at bedtime was about drawing the line: “Back in bed. Lights out. No more talking.”
But I’ve realized it’s more about drawing near.
Jackson doesn’t need me to solve every fear or correct every late-night thought. He needs presence. He needs someone who knows what it feels like when your mind runs laps in the dark.
And truthfully, I need it too. Drawing together slows me down as much as it slows him.
It’s basically co-regulation disguised as doodles. Or, if you’re less clinical: therapy for two people who can’t draw hands.
What I didn’t have as a kid…
space, tools, connection,
I get to offer him now.
That’s the shift.
That’s the gift.
The Scripture
“Cast all your anxiety on Him because He cares for you.” — 1 Peter 5:7
That’s what these nights have become: small practice rounds of casting our anxieties.
Sometimes in words,
sometimes in pencil strokes,
always in connection.
The Reset Reminder
When your kid’s brain won’t stop, it’s tempting to shut it down. But sometimes the best reset is to sit in the middle of it with them.
Calm isn’t always stumbled into; sometimes it’s drawn together. And if the drawings look more like potatoes than people, well, maybe that’s just God’s way of keeping us humble.




As a fellow parent of a kid whose brain does cartwheels at 9 p.m., this hit home. Sometimes the real reset isn’t ‘get back in bed,’ it is ‘pull up a chair and grab a pencil.’ Love how you turn connection into calm.
Love this! These are such wonderful core memories for him of love and connection with you, he doesn’t realize the life skills you’re showing him (and how much they heal us too!) ❤️