Memories (part two) - the bedroom

Continuing along with blog postings of childhood memories (and memories of stories told to me) - we come to the lesson learned of... no more jumping on the bed!

I never ever slept in a crib. There just wasn’t space for one in such a tiny apartment. Instead my first bed was the top half of a twin-size bunk bed. Yes, I said the top bunk bed. Mom knew that as a newborn infant I was yet unable to turn over while sleeping - and she had great fears of my brother (3.5 years older than me) falling out of the top bunk. So, until my Dad put into place a guard rail - it was my distinct privilege to sleep on the top bunk.

Finally Dad got the guard rail in place, and I was thereafter relegated to the bottom bunk. It was that first night sleeping on the lower bunk that Mom said I actually rolled over in my sleep for the first time - and promptly fell out of bed. After that I was always quite fenced in by pillows to prevent a repeat occurrence. And Mom was forever grateful that I had not started exhibiting such skills prior to that time. A fall from the top bunk would have had more serious consequences.

My first memories of the bedroom was the adventure of following my brother’s lead and launching myself from the top bunk - to land with great delight in the middle of my parent’s queen-size bed. It wasn’t a terribly difficult feat, as there were only a couple feet of space between the two beds. But what fearless pleasure was achieved through the simple task of climbing high to the top bunk - followed by a glorious bouncing, soft landing. No amount of parental commands could keep two enterprising children from such daring adventures.

Needless to say, the first purchase made after moving to their new home a few years later was the replacement of a by then quite damaged queen-size bed. When parents tell their children to not jump on the bed - there is usually a good reason behind such requests.