"Sweet girl," I said pointedly, "your bed is huge." (It's a double.) "You just need to move some of your friends to another part of your room." And she giggled with the realization that a major furniture purchase was not, in fact, the easiest solution.
Remember the still life posts that were one of my standard features early on in this blog? Little photographic glimpses of our life, a tie-in to the blog's name as well as a referential glimpse to my art historian past? It's possible that most of you weren't around back then. I miss the still lifes, and I'm going to try to remember to bring them back.
The next afternoon we had a Culling of the Bedmates. Treaties were brokered. Compromise ensued. We may have solved
Each friend had to be vetted individually for emotional value, structural integrity (the most battered have been airlifted to the doll hospital (aka mama's sewing table)) softness regarding being bumped up against in the night, several other complicated hierarchies I never understood, and finally, the big-picture effect: could they play as a team? Did they work well together? How did the bed look? And was there enough snuggle space?
Weighty issues, these.
Still life with final bed arrangement
She rearranges them just like this every evening, spends the night kicking off her covers and tossing them around the room, and the next night procrastinates on bedtime by reestablishing their arrangement. It's a solid system.
And it does leave us enough room to snuggle.