Two nights ago, I couldn’t get the kids to sleep. Since I’m the mom, I don’t crash until they do. Bacon can nod off anywhere, anytime, through any form of natural disaster. Fortunately, he’s married to me. I wake at the sound of butterfly wings, spiderweb spinning, and a ten-year old’s insomnia.
That precise thing led to the eradication of box springs from our bedroom. What? You don’t rearrange the furniture when a family member can’t sleep? In a fit, I woke Bacon and demanded he remove the middle layer from our cake of a bed. I’ve written about my consternation over the Cake Bed before. I’m not sure why I didn’t see the solution earlier. It was always a pain to don climbing tackle just to get aboard each night. As an added bonus, the layerectomy completely feng shuied our bedroom. Now, the bed looks like it did twenty years ago in the furniture showroom. No matter how many different dressings I’ve applied, it never seemed right. Maybe, it was meant to be a platform and not a drum.
The next day, I searched the house looking for the girls. Their rooms were empty. The computer was off. The television was dark. I walked into my bedroom. Cherry reclined atop the fleece blanket reading a book. Beside her, Coco caught an afternoon nap.
Why are you in here?
It’s the most comfortable spot in the house.
Why now?
It’s the right size.
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