She got us again.

The last time the mother-in-law moved, she asked if we wanted her mattress. She promised there was nothing wrong with it, that she just needed something "different", and pointed out that it was still wrapped in the plastic in which it had been delivered to her.
Younger Son's mattress needed an upgrade, so we accepted her offer.

It was good.
Boy was happy.

Until it was time to change the sheets.
That's when I flipped the mattress like my momma taught me, remade the bed, and gently patted my boy on the head and gave him a goodnight kiss.

He couldn't sleep.
The mattress was "pokey".

Now, Younger Son is a bit of a complainer. He will whine and moan about the smallest thing once he puts his mind to there being something wrong with it. (On the other hand, he can endure bare feet on hot coals if it's something he wants to have.)
So, we ignored him.

At first.
But finally, he invited me to climb up into his bunk bed and try it out myself.

I'll be dipped.

The springs on the whole side of the mattress are poking through.

Yeah.
I would "just need something different" than that, too.

Well, rather than strip the bed and remake it (have you ever made a bunk bed? I hate this thing! Now I know why my mother never let me have one as a kid), I tossed a sleeping bag up there for extra padding.

Crimeny.
She's a real piece of work.