The move is done. The big bedroom--where I lay my weary, size-7¾ noggin for 15+ years (or about 38% of my life)--now boasts a crib and an awesome race-car bed. And the little bedroom--the one my roommates were always banished to--is my new home. It's a cozy existence, since there's about three feet of clearance around the Queen-size bed. It's like sleeping in one of those inflatable bounce houses you see at carnivals.
Let me also say that I am no stranger to illogicality. I am married to someone, for example, who likes to check out 15 books from the library, read two of them, and forget about the rest until she starts getting e-mails about her fines. She then goes off to the library to pay these fines ... and comes back with 15 more books.
When we told Robert that we were planning to switch the sleeping arrangements, he was ecstatic. He stripped naked and ran from one end of the apartment to the other, singing and leaping and stomping and reminding my downstairs neighbors to check the real estate listings. United at last! The brothers could talk, and play, and hatch plans for world domination without parental interference! This was to be the Ultimate Bert Sanctuary!
It all began with such promise. TwoBert had missed his afternoon nap, so even though he was unfamiliar with his new sleep-cage he passed out rather quickly. Robert was only too happy to throw himself into bed right afterward, and suddenly there my wife and I were, sitting on the couch, both kids tucked away at 7:30pm. We were geniuses.
Then Robert prairie-dogged for the first of a half-dozen times. He wasn't sleepy. Then he was too sleepy. Then he fell asleep but woke from a violent nightmare. Then he determined that his brother was the source of all ill in the world, that he never signed onto this roommate business. Attempts to soothe him in fierce whispers were futile, and we quickly spiraled to DefCon One: high-pitched whines. Then TwoBert woke up and doubled the chorus, and dogs everywhere winced in agony.
What else could we do? We waved the white flag. My wife took TwoBert into the bounce house, and I lay on Robert's floor and talked him down before sleep finally overtook both of us.
Do you see what I'm up against? Robert wouldn't countenance sleeping with his brother, then he wouldn't sleep alone because he had to wail about wanting to sleep alone. And of the four beds in our place, I didn't get to use any of them. If you look for logic in this family, you might just as well be blind.
