Last night, I grabbed the Car & Driver magazine that arrived in the day’s mail and took a seat on the couch. It’s a decent sized couch with plenty of room for an adult and a few children.
But my kids mistake the couch (and my body) for a beanbag chair they can mold and contort to their liking. First Luca asked me to lay down so she could recline across my chest. Although that position makes it more difficult to read my magazine, I’m happy she wants to spend time next to me, so I change positions.
That lasts about two minutes before Anna Lynn jumps on the back of the couch and slides down the cushions until she’s settled across my legs.
So now I’m trying to read the latest mid sized sedan comparison with what feels like a 45 lb. steel ball with long hair wedged against my diaphragm. Anna Lynn has wiggled herself into a position that’s cut circulation to my legs causing them to tingle.
I’m spending far more time keeping strands of blond hair out of my eyes, mouth and nose than I am reading car reviews.
It’s about this time that I’m reminded how much money I’ve spent over the years on car seats, strollers, high chairs and bouncy seats. All these products have a use, and can add to the safety and convenience of securing and transporting children.
But kids don’t care about any of that. They don’t want to be strapped, tied of fastened to a chair for long. Who would?
It won’t be long before my children are too big to rest across my legs. The days I can carry them on my shoulders to bed are numbered. That 4 year old daughter I fling over my back and twirl around until she’s dizzy has a fast approaching expiration date.
Last night I realized how much I will miss nights like this one. I don’t know if the couch will be around when the kids no longer treat me like a beanbag. I know I’ll be sad the first time they sit at the opposite end, far away from me with two feet on the floor.
I still have the better portion of my favorite magazine to read.
But it will have to wait until the feeling in my legs returns.