Couch Wars

Again, the couch:house ratio is out of balance. Last weekend, we scored a giant Ikea job that will not fit in Steph and Ryan’s apartment, and put it in our living room. As is our practice, we have retained the old couch-i.e., shoved it in the Christmas tree corner of our living room-while we bond with the new couch. The new relationship with the younger, prettier model might work out. In that event, we will have the old couch as a fall-back. While we deal with our commitment issues, we have two couches in our living room. The new(er) one in the picture is the discontinued Ekescog model, as we discovered online. It turns out that I could have just looked at one of the slipcover tags, instead of fruitlessly combing through Ikea’s annoying website for an hour. Dur. (Also, do you like the My-Size Barbie legs poking out, Wicked-Witch style? Me too.)

Couch time is usually family time. Carl and I attempt to watch grown-up TV, and Wendy wedges herself between us and demands Dora or Max & Ruby every thirty seconds. We think that making screeching noises, planting her head in my armpit and lodging her big toe between Carl’s ribs provides her with a sense of security. It reminds her of the baby-hood she spent in our bed.

The periodical double-couch situation provides the novel option for both adults to lie like broccoli at the same time while watching The Daily Show. In theory, one of us will get a whole couch to ourselves. A beautiful whole five minutes, baby-toe free!

For the proprietor of The Toes, this set-up precipitates an ultimate conundrum: which parent can I monopolize most effectively? Can I do both at the same time? How can I effectively streamline my attention-gleaning strategies to maximize cuddle-time while disallowing cross-cuddling, thereby assuring my genetic dominance over this genetic pool?

Wendy: Daddy, read it again.
Daddy: I want to go over and cuddle Mommy.
Wendy: Actually, I want to cuddle Mommy.
Mommy: You can cuddle Mommy too.
Wendy: But I want Daddy to stay on that other sofa.
Mommy: Mommy wants both of you to cuddle me.
Wendy: Only Wendy.
Daddy: That's not fair.
Mommy: What if I cuddle Daddy over there?
Wendy: That's my Daddy, not your Daddy.
Mommy: True. Also Irrelevant.
Wendy: Daddy is my best friend.
Daddy: Wow. That’s nice.
Mommy: Don’t let her play with your emotions. That’s how she gets you.
Daddy: But-can’t we all just cuddle on the big couch?
Wendy: *flings body across Mommy* NOOOOOOOOO! I DON’T LIKE DADDY!! ONLY MOMMY!!
Mommy: It wouldn’t hurt so bad if you steeled yourself against her wiles.

Living with a two year-old is kind of like having a jealous sibling. If you and your sibling were both under five and negotiated territory deals with third world country war lords.