When my daughter brought me home to her place, I ended up sharing a room with my 7-year-old grandson. I’ve got the bottom bunk. Overhead are thick, firm, wooden slats. I don’t believe anyone realized how useful they would be. I’ve been able use them as therapy bars. First I could use my left hand/arm to help whilst my right arm/shoulder was a shattered disaster. Now I’m using them to help lever myself and the knee around. When we do the shoulder again, and when the right foot is eventually fixed I suspect I’ll be appreciating the joys of bunk beds again.
Except for times when I’m bed-ridden (such as for these few days) I am usually here just for a few hours of sleep. “The boy” (which is the term I use to identify my grandson to the dog) is the one who uses the room during the daylight hours when he is here. “The boy” and I both have hearing deficits, mine are merely catastrophically worse than his (thank heavens). He tends to have a big voice (as do I) so most of the time I can hear him better than most – sometimes way too well. And “the boy” is also McKinley (Baby Dog’s) favorite rough and tumble playmate. Every dog should have a wonderful boy to roll around the floor with, to play tug of war with, and to romp and play with until totally exhausted. They usually collapse at the same time. Life is good.
The eldest girl is more of a momentary angel gliding through Kinley’s life giving tummy rubs, soft kisses, and tummy rubs. The younger girl is presently doing her imitation of the grinch. This too will change. Fortunately, in a small home with an amazing number of people here (the VNA personnel were amazed as adults and children popped into existence at the top of the stairs), there is always a kind word and pat for McKinley. And I never miss knowing someone is at the door here because of McKinley’s “announcing” visitors – although it would be good if she’d announce just a wee bit less.