Afternoons on the Couch

Probably my favorite time of day is from 4-6pm. Mornings are usually spent out at playgroups, libraries, classes, parks, etc., and though these times are generally fun and satisfying they involve preparation and travel, both of which take more patience and effort than is often comfortable for a two-year old and his mommy. Then home for lunch and nap, one transition after another. He naps, and I regroup, glancing at my poems, surfing the web, dragging myself onto the yoga mat, breathing and moving, and probably snacking afterwards. Then he's up, and we're both refreshed, with nothing to do until dinner time.

It's quiet, it's just of the two of us, and I try not to make too many phone calls, catch up on chores, etc. I try to be there for him, let him guide me in play. A month or so ago, this was the time of art, Ben and me at the kitchen table drawing, painting, making stories. Lately, though, he wants nothing to do with art (or at least that kind of art). He has realized that what he draws doesn't really look like what he intends it to. Before, just the movement of his wrist and the explosion of line and color were enough. "That's a staircase! That's a big big Ben! That's a fair in Great Neck!" he would proclaim. Now, he's just frustrated. Recently, he wanted to draw an earth. "Oh," I said, "You know how to make a circle. That's all you have to do." So he made a circle and threw the marker down. "That doesn't look like the earth!" he shouted. "Mommy do it." And it went on from there: frustration each time he tried, so I stopped suggesting we draw, and he stopped asking. I figure it's just a phase, and he will pick up his pen when he's ready. I understand. It's like that for me with my own art.

The new thing is playing on the couch. Naked, of course. All he wants to do is make tents and caves with blankets, use the pillows to turn into turtles and fish. And he wants me to come inside with him, the two of us curled in the dark together. Or we'll read book after book, discussing each page in detail. And of course there's his CD player and headphones. He's got the whole Beatles catalogue of songs memorized. And let's not forget his monkey-body climbing all over the couch and me, standing at the top and jumping into my arms. We've got a room full of toys, but we stay on the couch, this soft little spot, this safe, cozy place.