We have a very nice living room. It was, in fact, the room that pretty much sold us buying this little house up on the hill. It has a beamed ceiling that is over eleven feet tall, a beautiful fireplace with a grand mantle, hardwood floors laid out in a concentric pattern, and an enormous arched window that is the defining characteristic to the entire house. It is warm and welcoming room and we spend the bulk of our time in it when home.
Point of fact, as I see it, we actually spend too much time in there. We often eat dinner spread about the room sitting in the various seats. The kids will often grab their clothes from their rooms and end up getting dressed in the living room. We have a television in there that is attached to both a Wii and a PS3 and a TiVo and a cable box with on-demand. There are board games and books and a fair share of toys. Whatever your little heart desires for entertainment, that room has it.
What is also has is a little table in the back corner that is generously considered “my desk.” Given that it also is the preferred place to build legos, color, draw pictures, and, often times, simply store little toys and books, it doesn’t always feel like mine.
But I try.
I’ll frequently sit down at “my” desk to write or read something after I get home from work. The kids will be spread about the room doing whatever may be their thing at the moment. In the ideal world, I would be able to sit there and do my thing while watching them do theirs. We would be together, sure, but I’d also have a chance to get some stuff done. Stuff like writing for a mostly dormant blog as an example.
That isn’t often what happens, though. As it turns out what happens instead is this:
“I sit you wap?”
You see, no matter what I am doing, it is apparently infinitely more interesting than whatever Oliver is doing. Or so he thinks anyway.
So over he toddles and presents himself to me with that simple phrase:
“I sit you wap?”
Who can say no to that? Not me, that’s for sure. So up I pick him and stick him on my left knee. For a few moments, there is a small chance that I may be able to continue with whatever it was I was doing. I can still type with one arm reaching around Ollie.
Then, invariably, Theo catches sight of the developments in the back of the room. Ollie has set-up shop on my “wap” and that means there’s something over there worthy of checking out.
Here he comes!
“I need sit you wap too!”
Of course you do, Theo, of course you do. He NEEDS it, he tells me. You see this is why Oliver got the left side because I have learned that Theo will soon follow and take up the right.
And there I am – a toddler on each side, my lap completely spoken for. I’ve gotten pretty good at managing any number of things while also keeping track of these two two-and-a-half year olds. A trip to the mall or a Friday night at soccer? No problem here! But typing with them between this computer and me is not so easy.
As much as there is the temptation to shoo them away, really, who could do that? Not me, that’s for sure. My wap is your wap, I think, is the best policy here.
I know the day will come (and soon) that there will be no interest in my lap or me or whatever terribly interesting things may be happening over in my corner of this great room. Henry and Maggie certainly don’t seem to care. When that day comes I will be more productive. I will write more, read more, and watch more. But until then, I’m happy to push the computer away and spend my time with these two little guys for as long they continue to ask.