Somewhere along the line, the parent-child dynamic flipped.

It did not happen with a dramatic speech or an incident where I had fallen and couldn’t get up. No health advocate needed quite yet.

No. It happened quietly in the kitchen when my daughter handed me a gummy and said, “Take this. You’ll finally get a good night’s sleep.”

A confident, clinical diagnosis followed by a sticky prescription.

I took it the way all parents eventually take advice from their children. A dose of mild skepticism and the creeping awareness that they probably know more than we do now.

Let’s be clear. This was not the Haribo Gold-Bears of our youth. This was a concerned, targeted chewy intervention.

Five minutes after climbing into bed, my supplier approached and mapped out the alleged nocturnal activity.

Initially, I felt nothing.

Ten minutes later, still nothing.

Have I been duped by my own offspring?

One hour later and I am blissfully sleeping.

Two hours later I am forcing myself to wake up because I am dreaming hard about working even harder to clean the house and exercise longer and harder, engaging in a highly determined, purposeful sleep.

I roused myself after experiencing severe dry mouth. I made my way to the kitchen, guzzled water and headed back to hours of tossing and turning and then, finally, blissful sleep.

Morning came. Coffee tasted better and yet I was exhausted from working so hard while sleeping

So now I find myself in a new phase of parenting, taking notes.

We give our children structure.

They give us perspective.

And occasionally…a gummy.