New Beds

A couple months ago, we moved the boys into the same room. I've been excited about this since I was pregnant with Ols. I searched and searched and searched and searched (to Ryan's extreme exasperation) and finally found a perfect pair of antique Jenny Lind beds on craigslist for less than anything at IKEA. I drove out to Birmingham to pick them up, and the seller, a mother whose own two teenage boys had outgrown them a few years ago, was so happy to be handing them down to another set of brothers. She made me promise not to paint them.

The first night the boys slept in their new beds, which we shoved together so Ollie would have one less side to fall off, we stood at the bottom of the stairs for 20 minutes listening to them chatter and giggle and whisper. When the sounds fell silent, I ran upstairs to make sure Ollie's head wasn't lodged between the spindles or something (he was still a couple days from two years old, after all), and the sweetest scene was swaddled in twisted blankets. They were holding hands across the beds. I ran to get my camera and tried to photograph them, but I couldn't get a flash.

We tuck them before we go to bed, rearranging their sleeping little bodies, which are generally draped across the mattresses or each other. Even if Ollie hit Cass with a Matchbox car before dinner, or Cass yells at Ollie to stop singing and go to sleep, they always find their way to snuggling. And it makes my heart swell every single time.