No Chair For Me
The fireworks this past fourth of July were amazing. As usual, however, we managed to be one chair short. Now I understand that in most families, being short a chair doesn’t affect the dad. With us, however, I’m the one who ends up on the blanket.
That may sound like I’m complaining, but I’m not. I always choose the blanket over the chair. Sure the chair is more comfortable and it’s easier to get up and down, but the blanket… well, instead of telling you, let me show you.
Shortly before the fireworks started, my five year old climbed down out of his chair and into my lap. He ooh’ed and ahh’ed appreciatively, then cuddled into my shoulder and fell asleep.
I lay back on the blanket and positioned him with his head on my shoulder. He nestled in and stayed asleep.
A few seconds later, his older brother joined us. Stretching out perpendicular to me, the soon-to-be seven year old rested his head on my belly. I patted his shoulder and then pulled my arm back so I could rest my head on it. Fireworks burst overhead, giant showers of sparks punctuated with deep reverberating explosions. My youngest slept through it, his warm breath growling in my ear. My oldest commented quietly, occasionally patting my knee to get my attention.
If there’s a better way to watch a show, I haven’t experienced it.
See what I mean? The blanket beats the chair every time.