Sleeping Shelves

In the last four years since the boys arrived, they have nearly tripled in size and as a result, their bedroom has one-thirded in size (is that a verb?). So Mom set out to IKEA where for a mere $179 (how can they possibly make a profit?) we got a set of bunk beds. And for a mere $1,500 in labor (Dad's $15-per-hour rate times the 100 hours it took him to assemble it), we now have provided the boys with more space to jump, wrestle, pounce, thrash, leap, spring, bound, bounce, hop, soar, and vault.

The mattresses were moved out of the room, Dad sorted the 6,289 bolts and screws that it came with, Daniel and Molloy provided their assistance by mixing them back up, Lev provided his newly exposed range of intelligence to the project ("Dad, which one is the "flat" head screwdriver?"), and Kerrie did what I usually do when we travel as a family; got out of the way.

Now, a rack of bunk beds (let's just call them what they are, "sleeping shelves") requires a set of rules, and this is what we have laid down - and with everyone's immediate agreement and understanding:

• No more than one person on the top
• Molloy is not allowed on the top
• No wrestling on the beds

After full assembly and pushing the shelves into their intended alcove (a perfect fit), I left the room to get a mattress. This must have taken me no longer than 2 seconds to walk down the hallway, 2 seconds to grab and secure a mattress in my grip, and (let's give the kids the benefit of the doubt as it relates to time and assume there was some clumsiness associated with carrying the mattress back) 4 seconds to return; a total of maybe 8 seconds. What do you think I found?

• Three children on the top
• Including Molloy
• Fighting and wrestling

What's the point of even talking to children?