The case against bunk beds

On Monday night, the kids were in bed, I was tinkering on the computer, and Chad had run out to pick up a few groceries. Suddenly, Liam started wailing. He'd been in bed for an hour or so, and crying in the night like that is not normal for him. I went down the hall to check on him and found him with one leg firmly wedged between the bed and the wall. We'd pulled the bed out a crack a couple of weeks ago to get access to an outlet, and it had never been moved back. I guess it left just enough room for his skinny little chicken leg to slip through.

Liam was talking gibberish, completely nonsensical stuff, but he did manage to let me know that it did not hurt, he was just scared. Still, he continued to wail and the leg was at a really odd angle. I didn't think it would be wise to just yank on it and hope for the best. Obviously he needed some help.

I spent the next 15 minutes or so pulling on that bed with all my might, and it wouldn't budge. It's a double on the bottom and a single top bunk, and it's solid wood. It is HEAVY. You know how you hear about people being able to pick up a car with a single hand when they are running on adrenaline and someone needs help? Don't believe it. I couldn't move the bed one damn inch.

Liam was still wailing and I finally broke down and called Chad to ask him how long he was going to be. Turns out he was just pulling in the driveway. I met him in the garage and told him not to panic before I told him the rest of the story, but he could hear Liam crying from there and raced up the stairs to yank the bed out of the way. 

All is well now, of course. Liam is fine, the crying stopped as soon as he was freed, and the bed got pushed firmly back up to the wall so as to prevent future trappings. I, on the other hand, am nursing a very sore back and shoulders. One more reminder that I am nowhere near being ready for the Ms. Universe pageant.