...more shoes than me?
...more sports equipment than me?
...many many more jackets than me?
...MORE CRAP THAN ME?!!! (excuse my French)
Some crack-of-dawn mornings when Michael wakes up crying, I either (A) pat him on the back until he calms back to sleep, or when I'm exhausted, I (B) pull him into bed. And when I pull him into bed, I am holding onto him for dear life. Why? Because our bed is nearly 3 feet off the floor!
Many moons ago, Dan built a 5 ft high bed when we moved from a house into a one bedroom apt. He later shortened the legs to 3 feet high when we 'upgraded' to a two-bedroom apt. And it really was great. We had more stuff than we knew what to do with, so we stuck it all under the bed.
Then: (lovely pose, hehehe)
And now...
Rock a bye baby on the high-bed...
When he rolls off, he'll have a concussion...
Today as I tried to consolidate our under-bed belongings, I was very tempted to call Dan at work and scream, "Unless you are serious about starting tennis again, get rid of those dusty shoes from under the bed!" I am going to spare the world of all the things that are under there. And I know that there are fellow hoarders, sorry, sentimentalists out there that would side with Dan to keep his high-school soccer socks for memory's sake, or better yet, in case of an emergency.
I just think it's funny that once upon a time I thought that a low bed was whatever, and now I see it as an absolute luxury. LUXURY! :)
Am I asking too much here? Have I become more snobby? (Don't answer that, hehehe)
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