Sunday, September 23, 2012

In the shadow of the couch

Inches from the furniture built for such pursuits, they choose the laundry basket instead, dumping out unmatched socks and kitchen towels across the carpet, nestling in, legs entangled, to 'read.'

She recites from memory as she points to text knowingly. He claps cymbals at the end of each paragraph. It's a moment of literary appreciation.

She can't actually read and those cymbals are two unopened blocks of cheese that he's taken this past week to retreiving and carrying around the house like lovies.

He will leave that cheese somewhere. Yesterday we found it in the puzzle cabinet in the basement. And she won't put those socks back in the basket.


And here's my philosophy of life, housekeeping and parenting: laundry will never rank as important as sibling bonds. They're happy, not breaking anything, and caring for each other. It's just what I wanted out of having more than one kid, even if I wish they'd think to pick up the socks as quickly as they think to dump them. So they trashed the living room, is what it comes down to, but aren't they sweet?

Just remind me to go find that cheddar.
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