Why you should totally NOT feel sorry for Hadley

Do you remember my previous post about Hadley’s rocky reentry into the real world after a month-long vacation and most recently getting spoiled by Grandma J.?

One of her complaints was about her eensy-weensy twin bed. I blow off first-world whining like that. I didn’t get my first queen-sized bed until I was in my late-20s and wasn’t going to run out and buy her a bigger bed. I figured when she was a teenager, it would be great to upgrade to a Queen so we could boot her out of it when we have guests.

Case in point: my parents stayed with us last week and I certainly couldn’t have them stay on the twin bed in my office that doesn’t even have a bed frame. So, Jamie and I gladly gave up our bedroom and slept on the couch in the basement.

But then two days later, my friend Ratna posted on Facebook that she was giving away a queen-sized bed. I hesitated. What kind of message would that give to Hadley if she whined and I delivered? The last thing I want is an entitled, spoiled tween.

Then I remembered how I really don’t want to sleep on the couch again so I jumped on it. We’ll buy a headboard and new bedding later.

Fat Kitty & Hadley, sitting on a bed

She, of course, was thrilled.  But part of “earning” the bed was helping me move her old one to my office/spare bedroom and finish decorating it while also cleaning out the disaster zone under her bed.

In the end, everyone is happy. Hadley has a bigger bed, Jamie and I have something to sleep on the next time the grandparents come, my den has an actual bed for my friend Vikki who’s coming to visit this week and it didn’t cost us a dime.

“It’s not really my fault,” she defended, referring to the mess under her bed.

“Oh really? I’d like to hear why not?”

“It’s like there’s a magnet and everything just ends up under there.”

Just think how many more treasures that “magnet” will attract under a queen-sized bed.

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