I just dropped off my first son at his freshman college dorm. We come in to a smallish room with furniture lining every wall except the one that has a floorboard heater running the length of it.

At some point in this exploration, my son’s roommate, who is a friend from back home, arrives with both his parents. We get all their stuff and crowd the room even further. Then his mom and I assess the room. Where is the refrigerator going to go? The only space is between the two beds, then the bedside table has to fit somewhere else, but nothing can go next to the space heater. Meanwhile, the sun is pouring in the window, the room is getting hotter, and the moms are doing unpacking tasks, me because I can’t stay still, her because she actually believes in her son starting out organized…with no expectation he will stay that way.

However, the assessment continues, and the RA stops by. Now this is crucial because he is the keeper of the bed-stacking pins.

So I say, he’s right here. You need to decide if you’re going to stack your beds.

The two college kids mumble and grump. They’re tired from moving their stuff in, and minds busy with all the other things to do. Decisions are not what they are interested in.

No problem. One of the moms–it could have been me, but I don’t remember for sure–declares it’s the only thing that makes sense. Though the RA says they can do it whenever, there are extra hands available now.

Fine. The boys give way out of lack of energy or whatever.

So, the RA gives us the pegs, and under the direction of the moms, dad and boys hike the top bunk into place.

The parents assess the situation.

Concerns are raised about whether anyone can sit up on the top bunk…then whether anyone can sit on the bottom. Parents contemplate whether the bottom bunk needs to be flipped over so it’s closer to the ground and therefore there is more room for people to sit. Moms declare that space to sit comfortably is necessary if they’re going to have guests. The boys are consulted but still not in the decision-making mode.

I confirm that the buckets should fit underneath the bunk even in its lowered state.

Still no positive or negative statement from the boys.

The boys watch with numb fatalism as the decision is made and everything comes back off (mattress and support boards from both beds), the beds are debunked, the bottom one is flipped, and the whole thing is reassembled.

And I’ve neglected to consider the edge. The boxes cannot slide under. Sigh. However, the other mom gets to do her last making of her son’s bed in a symbolic transfer of responsibility, something she had promised to do. Note the contrast between the top and bottom bunks :).

There is now room for guests, read parents, to perch on the bunk while the boys work on their laptops, their faces wearing familiar long-suffering expressions.

They’ll thank us for it later…or maybe not ;)…but at least they have space to throw their clothes on the floor.

And thus ends our last bit of nesting as we launch our sons out into the world.