I put together an IKEA Noresund bed yesterday. It came as two very large, but flat, boxes; a long metal telescoping bar thingie; and two bundles of what looked like two-by-fours attached with ribbons so that they looked like those dodgy wood-and-rope ladders that you see strung across canyons in movies that the heroes have to cross while being pursued by angry, blow-dart-shooting native tribesmen.
But, here's the thing: the parts were packaged very well, the instructions were clear and easy to follow, and even with the 'help' of the girls, the whole thing was assembled and the mattress and box spring were on in less than 15 minutes. Seriously though, Leah was amazing at helping. Rachel....not so much. Rachel just wanted to put all the screws and other hardware in her purse and carry them around while hiding the screwdriver in her pants.
Leah helped me screw the frame together and put the knobs on the bedposts, and, amazingly, was able to help me slide and position both the box spring and mattress onto the bed. Crap, if I'd known it was going to be that easy, I wouldn't have been sleeping on the futon in the living room for the last 2 weeks while the bedroom was under renovations. The new dark red duvet cover is on, and the bedroom is almost ready for me to take the 'after' pictures. I just need to hang the mirror and move my bureau back in. And touch up a few tape-related paint boo-boos.
As Leah and I were standing there marveling that we had put the bed together and put the mattress on without having to ask the neighbour to come over and help, she looked at me and said, "We did it, Mom. Girls rule!". To which Rachel, sitting on the floor preoccupied with popping the bubble wrap that had protected the bed knobs, chimed in with "Yeah, and boys drool." And there you have it.