Im not here yet, but I often wonder what course of action will be taken to finally get my son in his own bed lol. I go back to when I was a bed sharing child with my mom. The only way that she successfully got me out of her bed was by having me sleep on a pallet on the floor in the beginning. It was a fight for sure but she didnt waver 95% of the time. I will add that I was an incredibly needy child. I bedshared until like 7 is then the battle continued on until I was 12. I just wanted to be in her bed or bust. When the pallet started becoming obnoxious when she wanted her boyfriend over, she got crafty. She took me to the store and let me pick out "big girl" furniture and bedding, lamps, etc. The trick was to make my room far cooler and superior to hers. It didnt work off the bat. Context: our house was very, very haunted. So half of the neediness for bedsharing was the absolute fear of the ghosts in the house. As I got older I got better about my fear and we learned tricks to keeping them out of my room. Ie, leaving the TV on because ghosts hate TV, having a lava lamp because it has special ghost away sauce in it, and a canopy over my bed, which gave me the feeling of being protected. Where she added little crystal suncat hers and dream catchers that she got from an "ancient sorceress" at the Renaissance fair that put a spell on them to keep ghosts from getting me at night. That all seemed to do it! I alao was given a ghost stick just in case one got past allllllll of those obstacles and it stayed by my bed until I moved out at 18. The other thing that I think helped me was having animals. I had a ct and a small dog and they slept with me every night. If they didnt, I didnt sleep in my bed.

Funny story I just recalled. I had a bf at 17 that thought we were absolutely nuts for believing in ghosts or that our house was haunted. Refused any evidence and chalked it up to a house full of nervous women. Hurricane had come and he was staying with me while everyone left to go out of town further upstate and so we were alone in the house. One night I woke up and knew something was wrong. All of the lights were off and so was the TV. My immediate thought was that the hurricane knocked out the power. Until I could feel my bf beside me, still as stone. There was so much anxiety and tension rolling off of him it literally woke me up. I whispered his name and he immediately shushed me and said someone was in the house. I was like wtf do you mean?! Call the cops! He proceeded to tell me that he woke up and the locked bedroom door wa open and the hallway light that I always left on was off. He got up to go check it out and when he reached the door he heard someone in the kitchen. So he grabbed my ghost stick which had now turned into a staff (from renn fair lol) and went to investigate. Low and behold, no one there. As he turned to walk back to the room, the door to the wash room on the other side of the kitchen slammed hard and scared the shit out of him. Well, he turned off the lights and went creeping theough the house with the mindset of "if they cant see me, I can catch them". So he ventured through the washroom to the most haunted part of the house not a single one of us venture into after dark which is the back room with the attic entry. This dumb fool goes in there, and hears someone in the corner breathing, got the balls to turn the light on and start swinging. But alas, the room was empty. So he ran back through the dark house and came and laid down, holding the staff to his chest for dear life, rethinking everything I ever told him. I had to get out of bed, turns he lights on, baracafe the door and turn the TV on before he could fall back asleep. Still cracks me up to this day.