Bunk Bed Blunder

Posted by Annmarie B. Tait in HandPrints Stories & Videos | 2 comments

© Annmarie B. Tait

For a full twenty minutes I begged my older sister to trade bunks with me for one measly night. I just had to know the thrill of sleeping in the top bunk bed or die of disappointment. Life is just that dramatic when you’re eight years old.

My sister, the self appointed secret president of the “Do-Gooders Club”, was not so all fired up sure that this was such a great idea. After all, Mom was no stranger to my appetite for adventure, and more than once she warned me to say away from the top bunk.

Eventually she gave in to me on the pinky promise condition that I never, ever, as long as I draw breath, speak a word to Mom about our shenanigans. “Deal” I said, with a grin that stretched from one earlobe to the other.

After supper I attacked my homework with the speed of a gazelle and the dedication of a Rhodes Scholar. With that behind me, I ripped off my clothes, jumped into the tub, then into my “jammies”, then into Daddy’s comfy chair. That’s where I waited, and waited, and waited for Ricky Nelson to sing “Travelin’ Man” or some other hit which signaled the end of the “Ozzie and Harriet” show, and the start of my bedtime escapade. I bounded up the living room steps two at a time.

“You didn’t forget, did you?”

“No.” My sister said. “But, I still don’t think it’s a good idea.”

“I don’t care. You promised!” I shot back in a panic.

All evening I imagined the top bunk bed as a flying carpet upon which I could dash off to Disneyland, a cowboy ranch, the Circus or anywhere I wanted. I imagined it as a tree house, a hot air balloon like the one I’d seen in the “Wizard of Oz”, and a magical flying unicorn.

One thing was for sure, I’d never get anywhere unless I got myself up into that top bunk with the lights out before my two oldest sisters came to bed, found me out, and blew the lid off my little caper.

Our bunk beds, purchased at the local Army Navy Surplus Store, were made of gray steel that Mom had painted white. They were not equipped with an adorable little ladder like the maple bunk beds I saw advertised in the Sears catalog. Launching to the top was strictly up to the strength and dexterity of the occupant.

To get me up there my sister stood bent over with her fingers laced together. I stepped into the cradle of her hands with one foot, grabbed the top bunk, and then hoisted myself up while she pushed me at the same time. It wasn’t very graceful but it got me to my destination all the same. Hardly had I made to the land of OZ on my flying magical unicorn when wouldn’t you know it? I fell fast asleep.

The real excitement didn’t start until well after midnight when I woke up and realized a trip to the bathroom was in order. With a sleepy yawn I threw back the covers, swung my legs over the side, and stepped off into thin air plummeting to the floor with one loud thud. That sure woke me (and everybody else in the house) up in a hurry.

Mom and Daddy ran to our bedroom with breakneck speed. When they arrived, Daddy picked me up off the floor and my sister scooted over in the lower bunk. Then Daddy gently put me down next to her. I never complained, cried or said a single thing except, “I’m so sorry”. My mother bent over and kissed me asking if I was all right. I answered, “Fine. I’m fine. I’m so sorry.” She just whispered, “Go to sleep now”. Mom never scolded me. She never so much as reminded me of her warning to stay away from

Annie and Mom Xmas

When the commotion settled down my sister asked me if I was really okay. “I’m not sure”, I said. “My arm hurts a little. I’ll probably be okay in the morning”. She drifted off to sleep and I lay there filled with shame. My arm throbbed and I never closed my eyes the rest of the night.

As daybreak approached I saw my navy blue school uniform hanging on the hook where my mother left it for me with a freshly pressed uniform blouse. I knew I would never put it on that day. When I saw daylight I woke my sister and asked her to go get Mom for me.

My mother arrived and sat down on the bed next to me and the tears I had held in all night long now flowed freely. “I don’t think I can move my arm,” I said, between sniffles.

“Why didn’t you tell me last night?” She said smoothing my long brown hair away from my eyes.
“Because… I’m so ashamed”. By now I was sobbing.

Mom didn’t drive and Daddy had long since left for work. So, after she dressed me we trudged three blocks to the bus stop. The bus was crowded with people going to work. She stood next to me with her arm around my shoulder to steady me as best she could as the bus rumbled down the street.

When we arrived in the Emergency Room I was whisked off to the X-Ray Department. As we waited together for the X-ray results she put her arm around me and assured me that everything would be okay. The ice pack the nurse gave me kept sliding off my arm but my mother held it in place and spoke softly to calm me down.

When all was said and done, my wrist was fractured. A plaster cast was applied from my knuckles clear up over my elbow. What a day!

On the way home from the hospital we got off the bus two stops early and went into the “Five and Ten” where there was a lunch counter. The butter pecan ice cream they served was top notch and we ordered two cones. Somewhere between licks I summoned the courage to ask why I didn’t get in trouble for sleeping in the top bunk. Mom said, “You didn’t need any lecture from me. Your conscience took care of that. What you needed was someone’s hand to hold, someone’s shoulder to cry on, and someone to buy you an ice cream cone when the whole thing was behind you.”

We walked home from the “Five and Ten” store nice and slow so I could collect sympathy galore from anyone who spotted my arm in a plaster cast, resting in a brand new white cotton sling.

I remember that special day with my mom when it is on the tip of my tongue to say, “I told you so” to

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