The Couch

We have a couch and love seat in our formal room*. They are off white and we bought them with money that my grandparents gave us when we got married. We splurged and paid for some kind of stain proofing thing on account of the fact that we knew we wanted kids. We use them but we don't use them often. They look fairly new. Yes, I'm knocking on wood as I write and imagining a post in the not too distant future where I talk about how one of my two boys has just ruined my couch.

Anyway.

Despite the fact that I rarely use the furniture in the living room, it's a wonder that I had wonderful snuggle times with both my sons during the last 30 hours. I just put Matthew down in his crib. He fell asleep while he was drinking his bottle which never happens. I carried him over to the couch and laid down with him on my chest. His arms were pulled in tight underneath his body. His hair tickled my chin and the smell of Shea butter filled my nostrils. A trickle of formula ran from his mouth, which was slightly agape, and down his chubby cheek. He sighed. I sighed. The moment was good.

"MOMMY!" The Rock Star shrieked from the back door. And then there was some kind of catastrophe involving a three-year-old, a dish towel, and a piece of wood outside. Matthew's eyes flew open, his head popped up off my chest, and his signature grin spread across his face as if to say, My, what a good nap. I'm ready to play now. I carried him up to his crib.

Last night, Garrett announced that he'd made a bed for all of us. Troy was supposed to curl up on the love seat while Garrett and I shared the couch. I laid with my head at one end and Garrett had his head at the other end. I tickled his bare foot with the back of my index finger. He giggled. "Come here," I said to him and he curled into my body with his head balanced on my shoulder. As we talked he let out a series of rather loud toots**. I laughed. He laughed. He sat up and looked into my eyes as I chuckled.

"Garrett, do you know who else toots like that?" I asked him, prepared to throw my brother under the bus.

"Yes." He giggled.

"Who?" I asked, pleased that he knew of whom I was speaking.

Garrett paused and, through hysterical giggles replied, "The Prospector."



The part he is referencing happens at about the 4:24-4:44 mark. So you can fast forward to that point if you don't feel like watching all the Toy Story 2 bloopers. In any case, I completely cracked up. He collapsed back onto my shoulder and shook with deep belly laughter. The moment was good.

I'm glad I have that couch--and, of course, the boys who snuggle with me on it.

*When you have two boys under the age of three and a half, nothing is formal.
**Yes, we call them toots. I mean, we didn't until we had kids but now we do.