Dear Ms. Bunk Bed Creator,
I must admit that I had my doubts. When Ali got a bunk bed for her girls and reported the resulting magic of the immediate vacancy of her bed, I shook my head. Her girls were ready to sleep in their own room; the arrival of the bunk bed just happened to coincide with that milestone. I may have even begrudged her a bit. My own daughter was two years older than her oldest and still sleeping in my bed. No way did Ali think of something I didn’t to retrieve the luxury of an empty bed. It was just nature. Her girls felt the call to nighttime independence before mine. We two moms had nothing to do with it.
When the promises started, I began to think that maybe Ali knew what she was talking about. “Mama, if you get me a bunk bed like Riley and Maddie’s, I PROMISE I will sleep in my own room forever.” “Mama, I don’t think you understand that a bunk bed is my dream.” And so on. Like any mom, I’m used to hearing such empty promises, but she caught my attention when she said, “Mama, I swear, if you get me a bunk bed, you can yard-sale all my stuffed animals.” Now this was serious. Story has a borderline-psychopathic attachment to her precious 20,000+ stuffed animals. She would never dare even think such a thing, much less say it out loud to me.
Needless to say, I caved. And I am so glad I did. The bunk bed magic has infiltrated my home and created a snowball effect of happiness. Not only is Story sleeping in the bunk bed (on top), the dog is too (on bottom). Story has remembered the joys of playing in her room and not underfoot. Even the neighbor children play on the bunk bed in her room now, instead of running through the house with the dog in tow, yelling and flailing.
I am mom enough to admit when I am wrong. The bunk bed is to thank for this miracle, and — grumble — Ali in turn for thinking of it.
Dearest Ms. Bunk Bed Creator, I love you. You have brought peace and love to my home, and I write this letter to send you the thanks of a thousand well-rested moms.
Your biggest fan