I have two kids, one comfortable lap
and two arms, sounds like that should be enough, shouldn’t it? Apparently,
It is not. I need bigger arms. I’ve already mentioned the hell that is bedtime at our house; recently the situation has taken a significant downturn with the
introduction of a new point of contention: my lap. Used to be that I would hold
the girl for a while, sing to her, cuddle a bit while the boy hung out with
daddy, brushed his teeth and did secret “man stuff” (I don’t know either, do
they wrestle, have burping contests, lie there staring vacantly into space with
their hands down their pants?) and then I’d put the girl down and hold the boy
for awhile, sing, cuddle and whatnot.
Now for some reason everybody wants to sit in my lap together, like when they were teeny tiny, except now they’re quite large, and wiggly. So now at the tail end of the entire,
exhausting, infuriating ritual we have an additional five minutes of pushing
and shoving on my lap, of elbows in my ribcage, of heads banging against my
shoulders, my chin, and occasionally my nose. Let me just say that it is in no
way pleasant or comfortable for anyone involved, but for some reasons they need
this further reassurance that I do, indeed, love them the same.
So I need bigger arms, à la
elasto-girl, just until they realize that they don’t actually both fit in my
arms at the same time and the previous way was better. Which should be any day
now cause we all know how reasonable toddlers and preschoolers are, right?
