After months of threatening, and weeks and weeks of researching, we finally made an impulse decision, and bought the kids a set of bunk beds yesterday. We ultimately came to the realization that they are BUNK BEDS and not a set of heirloom Chippendale end tables, and went with the $299 version we found at a local furniture store. They fit our minimum criteria of solid “not dark” wood and were convertible into separate beds, for that moment when Stella starts complaining that she caught Porter secretly snooping through her text message log and whines about having to share her room with her like totally lame younger brother.

If I would have written this last night I would have expounded about the effortless bedtime ritual. Tonight, on the other hand, required a licensed counselor. Stella missed her old bed. Porter required not one, not two, not, three, but seven or eight bedtime rituals before he was content to voluntarily go down for the night. By the time we were finally able to leave their room without subsequent screaming, it was almost 9:30pm.

Right before Stella went to bed last night I reminded her where the stairs on her new bed were and told her that if she had to go to the bathroom in the middle of the night and couldn’t find them to just yell for me. I would much rather deal with the inevitable night waking than the middle-of-the-night-sheet-changing. And so, at 4:55am I heard the call, and was (moderately) happy to heed the call. The unfortunate downside to this predicament is that she woke herself up enough to have difficulty getting herself back to sleep. Finally, after three return visits, I insisted she just get into bed with us so that I could get another hour of sleep. Steve was already up and surfing the internet by the time Porter shuffled out of bed, and so I suggested he climb in with Stella and I. That lasted all of about seven and a half seconds before all three of us were up and ready for the day.

I am fully prepared for the fact that for tonight and many nights forward, I will again be summoned as a middle-of-the-night bathroom wingman. It’s not like it is anything new, considering I have to make the usual nocturnal runs for the single purpose of standing sentinel while she attends to her business. This is, obviously, the earliest form of the Female Group Bathroom Run. And I guess all I can say is, “Don’t worry Stel, I got your back.”