Any kid will run any errand for you, if you ask at bedtime.

Red Skelton, the beloved comedian and master of gentle wisdom, once said: “Any kid will run any errand for you, if you ask at bedtime.” On the surface, it is a playful jest, a wink at the endless schemes children invent to delay sleep. Yet within the laughter lies a truth about childhood, avoidance, and the strange dance between parents and children when the day is ending. His words remind us that bedtime, that sacred frontier between waking and dreaming, is often the battleground where youthful energy resists rest, and where wit and love mingle in small acts of rebellion.

The origin of this saying comes from the simple observations of family life. Children, though full of joy and mischief, often resist the quiet surrender of sleep. They will suddenly remember tasks, thirsts, or noble duties the moment the covers are drawn. Skelton, with his sharp eye for human behavior, saw in this pattern not only humor but also the essence of youth: the eagerness to remain awake, to delay the silence, to cling to the light of day just a little longer. To ask a child for an errand at such a time is to tap into their sudden willingness to do anything—anything but lie down.

History echoes with similar tales. In the diaries of pioneer families crossing the American plains, parents often noted how their children would invent endless excuses at nightfall—fetching water, tending to small chores—just to avoid lying still under the stars. Though the families were weary from travel, the children’s desire to stretch the day reflected their spirit, their refusal to surrender joy so quickly. It is the same spirit Skelton immortalizes in his jest: the truth that childhood is always reaching, always yearning, even in small acts of defiance.

The deeper meaning also touches upon the relationship between parents and children. The parent knows the child’s tricks, yet often allows them, smiling inwardly, because these little resistances are signs of life, imagination, and the unwillingness to let go. What may seem like delay is also a subtle cry: “Stay with me a little longer, keep me in the warmth of your presence, let the night not claim me too soon.” The errand at bedtime is less about the task and more about the bond between parent and child.

In many cultures, bedtime has been understood as a moment of great intimacy. It is the hour of storytelling, of prayers whispered, of lullabies sung by mothers and fathers. Even when children protest, they secretly cherish these rituals. Red Skelton, by turning this truth into humor, reminds us that parents must see beyond the delay to the deeper longing: children do not wish merely to escape sleep—they wish to stretch connection.

The lesson for future generations is this: be patient with the antics of youth, for in them lies both innocence and hidden wisdom. When your child asks to fetch water, to fold clothes, or to complete a sudden errand at bedtime, smile, for what they are truly asking is for more time, for your presence, for another moment to belong before the world of dreams takes them away. Do not grow bitter at these delays, but see them as invitations to deeper love.

Practical wisdom flows from this: parents, embrace bedtime not as a struggle but as a sacred hour. Tell a story, speak a blessing, laugh with your children at their little games. Do not worry if they resist sleep a while longer, for these moments will pass swiftly, and what will remain are the memories of warmth, patience, and love. In doing this, you give your children not just sleep but the gift of security, the assurance that their world is held together by your kindness.

Thus, Red Skelton’s lighthearted saying becomes a teaching of eternal depth: that even in laughter lies wisdom, and even in mischief lies longing. Cherish the hour of bedtime, for it is more than the closing of the day—it is the weaving of bonds, the strengthening of hearts, and the planting of memories that will outlast the years.