Bunk Beds Are Evil
There are so many things I wish someone had warned me about before I had children. The fact that my flabby pre-baby stomach would look enviable compared to the mess of stretch marks overtaking it after kids. That I would think nothing of having an OB bring his entire team of interns in to observe my internal exam. That I would never, ever again pee in peace.
But, really there is one that trumps everything else. Why didn’t my mom clue me in? My older cousins? My friends with kids? Did they all think that just because they suffered, I deserved to as well? What kind of conspiracy is this motherhood thing, anyway?
But, I’m not like them. I’ll share with you my knowledge. I’ll share with you what I’ve learned, the hard way. Because that’s just the kind of person I am. And, you deserve to know.
Dear Mothers: Do not, unless there is absolutely no other option under the sun, get your children a bunk bed. You will live to regret it, mark my words. The very first time you make the bed, my post will echo in your brain. I’m not one to gloat I told you so’s, but I will. Skip yourself the agony.
Sure, bunk beds look all cozy and idyllic. Two kids, one bed, sleeping in harmony. Whispering ghost stories late at night, swapping between top and bottom bunk, saving space in a crowded room. It all sounds so perfect. But it’s not. It’s hell.
Changing the top sheet may just kill you. The feeling can only be likened to putting on a pair of Spanx: The huffing, the puffing, the grunting, the heightened blood pressure, the sweating, the cursing. The fact that once you successfully have it in place, the reality hits you that it needs to come off eventually. You live in fear of pee. Instead of limiting your liquid intake, you’ll start limiting your child’s. It’s just not worth it. None of it. Go for the twin beds.
And thank me later.
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