It was supposed to teach a lesson.

"The bed had become a place of luxury to me. I would not exchange it for all the thrones in the world."
Napoleon I

"In bed we laugh, in bed we cry,
And born in bed, in bed we die,
As life goes on and time goes by
Born in bed, in bed we die. "
In Bed, Three Dog Night

I can't blame her. I love being in my bed. I love the colors, the fabrics (soft sheets are a must), the hundreds (or so it seems) of pillows. I love being in my bed in my room. I've done almost everything in my bed (no, I'm not talking about that - but yes, that too). My room centers around my bed. Almost everthing is within an arms reach of the bed. People always sit, lie, sleep in my bed.

I fully understand the attraction. So no, I can't blame her for feeling the same about her bed. The difference is I do not go to sleep at night with yu-gi-oh cards, remnants of arts and crafts projects - including scissors and glue, multiple books, stuffed animals, flashlights, contraband drink packages, dvd boxes, video game paraphenalia and God-only-knows-what else in my bed. I've even on occasion had to put the vacuum directly into her bed just to be sure I've cleaned every bit.

And I know a lot stems from my hang-up about toys or anything with cords/strings that could potentially get wrapped around her neck while she slept and strangle her (I blame this fear on a made-for-tv movie), so I've banned everything from our beds at night. To no avail.

The bed is still full and the other night I kept hearing clangs and crashes as she moved around trying to make room for herself in the bed simply to sleep. I've promised, cajoled, and even punished for junk in the bed. Nothing has worked. So now SHE has been banned from her bed.

It was not supposed to be fun. It was supposed to be uncomfortable. She was to sleep on the floor (in her sleeping bag of course, I'm not that cruel!) It was supposed to teach a lesson.


More fun than it should have been

Well, I guess She taught Me!