On Saturday the family gathered in Finley’s room to tackle a large, heavy project that took two nice deliverymen to get up the stairs: a birthday loft bed/desk combination.
The house has been chaos for months, between the bathroom project, the window projects and the dog, there are several cabinets, spare wood, and other building materials stacked in the blue room, tools in the hallway and a compressor in the dining room, and a baby gate between the den and the living room. Finley has been waiting patiently since September, so we tackled it as soon as possible after it was delivered. First we broke down her bed and moved its parts out into the hall, then opened the box and started organizing all 1300 parts. It was slow going at first but after I grabbed two more allen wrenches and another cup of coffee the three of us got the whole thing up and in place. She’s now got a full-size desk under her bed facing the side wall of the house, and her room feels larger and brighter. She’s slept up there several nights without falling out and breaking her head, so that’s a win.
I’m sad, however, that I can’t do “the Bull” anymore. When she was a toddler, I’d stomp around downstairs while she hid under her covers, squealing, and then I’d stomp up the stairs in increasing tempo until I was storming into the room to jump on the bed and yell “YAAARRRGGHHHH!!” and she’d scream under the covers in fear and giggles. It’s impossible to do that when you have to climb a ladder.
Maybe I can install a trampoline…