Climbing the Couch


The boys can climb up on the couch now. Without help. They are extremely proud of this feat. (Sophie never did this.)


For a couple days I lined the front of the couch with pillows. But then Tucker just used them as a dog bed. So I stopped putting the pillows down figuring a couple falls and the boys would more quickly acknowledge edges. (To be fair there is carpet underneath …)





It is a.b.s.o.l.u.t.e. c.h.a.o.s. The boys fling themselves forward and backward and bury their heads in the cushions and climb up onto the window sill and over the arm of the couch to the end table where they bang the keys on Andy’s laptop, or sometimes pick them off or, if Andy’s smart and closes his laptop they then, simply, sit on top of it. Always there is the risk of someone falling off or toppling over an edge but short of gating the couch or removing it from the living room (both of which I’ve considered) there is nothing I can do but watch wide-eyed, jumping from one end to the other, arms reaching out, occasionally pulling in my breath loudly making the noise I so often make around these boys lately, the noise everyone laughs about.




This is what it looks like from the outside. Sometimes, when our neighbors are taking walks, they slow down and stare as they push their strollers or pull their wagons or follow their child’s tricycle in front of our house thinking, I’m sure, thank God I’m not dealing with that. And even though it’s exhausting and frustrating (I love the look on Andy’s face in this picture) it’s also, often, a hilariously fun time—despite the bruises. So as much as I complain about that, really, I love that. OK, maybe not in the moment but definitely later, when everyone’s sleeping and I can’t help but smile when looking at their faces filled with such happiness, such joy.

“He who would learn to fly one day must first learn to stand and walk and run and climb and dance; one cannot fly into flying.” —Friedrich Nietzsche