It’s Nikita’s birthday on Sunday and she wanted a new bed. She’s had her bunk bed for many years through choice but decided that she wanted a double bed like most of her sisters. This was all good and her bed had certainly seen better days so I agreed and we toddled off to Ikea.
The choice for her was very simple, she just wanted a very plain wooden bed. The first one we saw was only £55 so I was a very happy mummy when she announced that this was the one she wanted! Result I thought.
We duly got the damn thing in the car (just) and went home. She was determined to put it together herself and having enlisted Osborn’s help she set about preparing her room for her new bed. So far so good!
I don’t quite know what I expected but with my usual optimism I was expecting it to be an easy task that occur unnoticed in her bedroom with very little impact on anyone else. Initially all went well and I happily left them to it as I started the enormous task of sorting out the bookcase. We have hundreds of books, I love books and I read voraciously when I have the time so whittling down wasn’t an easy job. I had a good reason to keep every one but have managed to get it to the point where every book actually fits on the shelf now!
Meanwhile all was quiet on the western front (Nikita’s bedroom) apart from the odd crash of wood on wood and ensuing subdued squeal. I ignored these as none of them turned into full on screaming. After about an hour or so I decided to go and see what progress they were making…only one problem….I couldn’t physically get to her room or the bathroom!
Every piece of wood from the bunk bed was on the landing and halfway down the stairs. Any self respecting ‘Elf and Safety’ bloke would have had a cardiac arrest! I carefully picked my way through the rubble and with great trepidation opened her door. I wish I hadn’t! Osborn and Nikita were happily trying to put the new bed together amidst a pile of rubble from the old bed as they couldn’t fit any more on the landing.
The whole exercise was being conducted in a very ‘Autistic’ way with both of them constantly tripping over the debris. I offered the advice that maybe the bits from the old bed should be taken straight down to the bonfire so that they had room to operate with relative ease. This advice was scorned as they both announced that were perfectly ok and with no tact whatsoever told me to get out and to not interfere. I quietly made my exit with my tail between my legs!
Two hours later and the landing and bathroom plus stairs were all full of ‘stuff’. At this point I did make it clear that there actually was a very real danger of someone tripping and falling downstairs and they did reluctantly agree to move it all.
Said bed was constructed in time for Nikita to sleep in it about which she was very happy. When I wandered up to bed the pile on the landing was still there but I had their assurance that they were just about to do it (a saying that is very common in my house) and trusting that they would do it I decided I’d had enough of the day and was giving in and going to bed anyway.
On rising this morning I was greeted with the same pile of rubble, why did I think it would be any different? Once again I told them both to move it and again was greeted with “We were just about to!”.
I give up….’just about to’ in our house means ‘when you have nagged me into submission and I’m sick of hearing you ask I’ll do it!’
Ever the optimist I’m assuming that it will all be gone by the time I return home. After so many years, why do I keep believing? Bless them!