It's made.
Which was a mystery.
Who had made her bed? It certainly wasn't me. I asked Greg if he'd made her bed. Nope, it wasn't him either. So that left Mary herself.
Had Mary made her bed? I wondered how she had even known about the possibility of a made bed--because her bed is NEVER MADE. Honestly, I believe I have never made her bed. Ever. Yes, that is how lame I am. I'm not proud of it--but it's the truth. Making my kids' beds is that low on my priorities list. It's a miracle if I get MY bed made. Sure, I change Mary's sheets regularly. But even then I don't really make her bed...
So how did Mary know her bed could be made? Don't children learn primarily from example?
Then I remembered.
Brenda.
So here's the deal. I broke down and hired a cleaning lady to help me out on Friday. After having workers in and out of our house for almost a month, the house was a disaster. And we had fifty people coming over Friday night...fifty people who probably did not want to hang out in dust and filth and clutter. By Friday morning it was time for reinforcements. Brenda was great, and, in addition to cranking through my cleaning to-do list with me, she tidied up the kids' bedrooms, including making their beds.
Which brings me to the mystery of Mary's made bed.
Mary made her bed. She has, in fact, every day since the cleaning lady came. Brenda opened Mary's eyes to the beauty of a tidy bed. And it turns out that Mary really likes having a made bed.
Who knew.
Poor girl. How else am I failing her? Don't answer: I'm not sure I'm ready for the answer. Maybe after I make my bed.
(Or maybe Mary will do it for me.)
