No Jumping on the Bed

I bought my son a blue twin bed at a second hand furniture store. I love it. I don’t however love the idea that my son is big enough to even think about putting him in the bed. But the new baby in the house should at some point be moved from the pack-n-play and into a crib, lest we get to a therapy session in 18 years entitled ‘mom and dad never loved me and here’s why.’ We will get there, I assure you, but I would like to at least screw everything up later rather than sooner. So, when I saw the bed at a price point even I can appreciate (yep, I said it, I’m CHEAP), I snatched it up.

I did at one point see the bed put together. I think I even sat on it. But somewhere between the land of unwanted furniture, the garage where I stored it for 2 months and my new apartment, something happened. And by happened I mean a large chunk of wood was suddenly missing from the ever important screw receiving area. My husband and dad didn’t seem alarmed (my first clue) and continued in the assembly. A short trip to Home Depot (clue number 2) and a bit of drilling later (there's number 3), the bed was up and solid.

I was so excited about the new sheets (dinosaurs in blue, green and orange, ROAR!), I didn’t really think about the supplies still littered on the carpet: screws, drill, dowels, . . . saw, wood glue, metal plates. I looked slowly up at my father who gave me a sheepish grin and said “maybe you should list the bed with the apartment when you choose to move out.” Like I said, solid.