The boys are lying in their new bunk beds as I write this. Manchild on the top bunk, Squish on the bottom.
We assembled the bunks after dinner tonight and went over the rules for the new beds as they brushed teeth: Squish is not allowed on the top bunk when the light is off. No standing or walking or jumping on the top bunk. Also, no wrestling.
Squish wanted to climb up to the top bunk 3 times, because he’s 3 years old.
Manchild was given the responsibility of calling out to us if his brother forgets the rules.
We took some pictures. We said prayers. We turned out the light.
And then we left.
The boys have been quiet for over an hour, but I can’t stop thinking about them in their new beds. My brothers had bunk beds when we were kids. They had boxing matches there. We built forts in them. They were central to many of the plots and schemes of my early childhood. And I’ve heard many other stories about other people’s childhood bunk beds during these weeks we’ve been building the beds.
And tonight, as I was lying there on the bottom bunk with Little Miss while Micah read to the boys on the top bunk, I couldn’t help but wonder what kind of memories/adventures/conversations will be centered on those beds.