Be the chair

A mother has many roles. We all know this, I won’t bore you with the list.

Currently my most important role in Duke’s mind is that of furniture.

He cannot reasonably be expected to sit on a surface that is not me. He insists this is true.  He wants me, or at least some physical portion of me, available for his sitting needs in every circumstance.

Meal times he considers to be lap times, play time also falls under the lap time category, as do reading time, coloring time…and dancing time.

“The ground is cold and hard mother,” he seems to say,

“Come here and place yourself beneath me that I may have something warm and soft on which to deposit my adorable person.”

He still prefers his cozy bed for nap times so that’s something. Though yesterday he did try using my face as a pillow.

This situation will become more difficult as weeks pass and my lap gradually vanishes from existence.

He was suffering from a miserable cold last weekend and spent the bulk of his time cradled by one parent or the other. I could blame it on that but I’m not convinced it started there.  No, I’m pretty sure the previous week’s abundance of snuggle time merely fanned an already burning flame.

I’m writing to report not to complain. This furniture job, though difficult at times is not all bad.  Yesterday as I knelt next to his bed, one cheek resting on his pillow, the other smooshed beneath his, I found myself wondering; “Is this sublime or just sublimely uncomfortable?”

Friend, I didn’t have an answer

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