The Perils of an Ill-Made Bed

I was down in California last week and most of this weekend, celebrating the college and high school graduations of my two lovely nieces Rachel and Sarah. Congratulations again, to both of them.

During the trip, I stayed with my mother, who at some point on Saturday, asked me to make the bed. I complied and threw the covers over the top. This, it should be noted, is how I make a bed. My mother later chided me for my sloppy bed-making, at which point I pointed out that she did not ask me to make it well. My mother rolled her eyes and walked away and I assumed that would be the end of the matter.

I was wrong.

Later, my brother Greg and his family showed up, along with my sister and her friend. After we were all settled into the living room, my mother announced that everyone should come see the marvelous job of bed making I had done earlier.

Her intention, it seemed, was to shame me into making the bed better. However, it did not work. My brother, who is normally much quicker on the uptake, gravely told his daughter, Christin (who is around 12) that she should go look at the bed her uncle had made, so that she could learn by his example. To the best of my recollection, this was the conversation:

My Brother: I know someone who needs to learn how to make a bed. Christin, go see how Uncle Jason did it.

Christin:

Me: Yes, Christin, you really should. You cannot overestimate a well-made bed.

Christin: Do I have to?

My Brother: Yes.

Me: Absolutely. I am certain you will learn a lot.

My Brother: Come on, Christin, you need to go see.

At this point, my brother takes his daughter by the hand and they troop into the bedroom. It is a very small house, so I can clearly hear them from the living room. They reach the bedroom and then there is a pause.

My Brother: Why are we looking at this?

My Mom (from the living room): So you can see how badly your brother made the bed.

My brother and niece reemerge. She has a sly little smile on her face.

Me: So, Christin, did you learn a lot about how to make a bed?

Christin: Yeah.

My Brother: Stop helping!

So it was a good weekend. I helped celebrate two of my nieces graduating and contributed to the moral decay of a third. I am still not sure why my mother thought she could embarrass me with an ill-made bed. She raised me, after all, she should have known better.

Cheers,
-Jason