How many of you remember your childhood couch?
Was it homely, but with a great personality? Was it beautiful yet uptight, or maybe an appalling hue, but oh so comfy? Was it referred to as a couch or a davenport? Regardless, it was like another member of the family, wasn’t it? And somehow it became your best friend in your times of need.
I can vividly remember our couch. It was ugly and resembled the color of dirt, but it had more bounce in its springs than my mom’s workout trampoline. Even when it was time to recycle that beige beauty, that didn’t mean we threw it out at the end of the driveway with a “FREE” sign on it. No, that couch was family. It stuck around as a decorative eyesore for a few more years. I had a serious relationship with that piece of furniture; after all, it was there for me in ways no one else was.
It makes sense that children can grow attached to things like furniture, especially if you think about how long those things stick around. It’s like a child’s teddy bear or blanket. You probably wouldn’t have given your old couch a second thought if I hadn’t reminded you of that retro flashback. It’s like I turned on an old song from your past and caught you completely off guard with overwhelming nostalgia. I hope this doesn’t send you scrounging for a picture of your couch to put next to your bed or hug as you fall asleep tonight with tears in your eyes. If it does, my apologies.
But now, as parents, we have a front-row seat to the relationship our own kids have with their couch. It’s hilarious, disgusting, yet touching all at the same time.
And in all honesty, that couch provides a lot for your children…
A place to rest their heads
This is the obvious way your couch provides for your kid. It might be where they fall asleep occasionally, or in your times of desperation, a place where you set your kid up for naptime without him or her knowing it, since you can’t actually sit for two hours while they bathe you in sweat. So why not let them sweat it out on old reliable, the couch? You can turn on the T.V. at a low volume and lay them down for a little “rest” as I like to call it. Before you know it, they’re out (well, in theory).
Snack time from deep within the cushions.
Do you ever walk in on your kid sitting on the couch crunching on God knows what? It happens quite often in my house. You’ll be prying their mouth open to find out if they’re eating the small plastic piece to the game of Sorry again only to get a whiff of stale Cheerio breath while you sigh in relief. On a Saturday morning, when you’re not ready to get up yet and they’re hungry, would it be so wrong to send them to the couch for a snack? That’s probably highly frowned upon, but many things have come from the couch cushions that have given my kids relief from hunger; Cheerios, Fruit Loops, Goldfish, or heck, even a rock-hard, old McDonald’s French fry. As long as it will digest eventually, I’m okay with it.
A real-life money pit
Who the hell is emptying their pockets into the cracks of your couch? I think the tooth fairy gets confused on where she’s dropping her money because my kids find more coins under those cushions than in my car ashtray. When your kids find money like that, just tell them you put it there on purpose, and it’s their allowance for the week. That way, they won’t bother you for money for about a day or an hour, depending on the level of greediness your child rates. My oldest rates about a nine out of ten, ahem, greedy. That poor couch gets robbed I tell ya, robbed!
A collector of snot and boogers
How many times have you caught your kid wiping his or her nose on the couch? Did you ever think you would have to intentionally teach your children NOT to wipe their noses on your furniture just because you can’t make it to their nostrils at just the right moment? When will they understand the concept that the couch is NOT a box of Kleenex? Oh, forget it. I get tired of being a human nose blower anyway; I’ll clean that nastiness up later. At least they’re not eating it!
The next best thing to a bounce house
Whether it is a rainy day, a sick day, or just a Sunday, the couch seems to be the next best thing to a bounce house. Jumping from couch, to coffee table, to chair, back to couch. No matter how many times you tell those mongrels to stop jumping on the couch, they’re back at it once you’re not looking. That poor couch takes a beating. But I’ve got to be honest; it’s better than a damn bounce house in the backyard. That thing is the devil.
Unfortunately, when kids are sick, if they must lie down, they want some sort of entertainment like television, so to the couch they go. It’s where they lay their sick heads and their sick breath into the cushions to absorb and disburse into healthy family members. Moms might really sympathize with the couch on this one. We can be infirmaries too. We just need another object to pawn the sick kids off on when we need to get shit done, a babysitter if you will. Oh well, we sacrifice for the sick, and couches are no different. I just wonder what’s in it for them.
The magic maker
The couch provides an endless list of creation for the imagination. Have you ever just sat back and watched as the kids keep off the hot lava by staying on the couch, or walk the plank of a pirate ship into the sea? It’s fascinating and quite impressive the way that couch provides for their little brains. My favorite is the fort, more for the creative aspect and much less for the cleanup. That poor couch is ripped to shreds with all its guts exposed. Every pillow and cushion thrown off and turned into a boxed creation with blankets and comforters only to be recklessly abandoned without a clue as to who made it or who should clean the damn thing up. Like I said, magic.
The catcher of the insides
I’m sorry to even expose your couch and my couch like this, but we all know this happens. The couch is the catcher of all things happening on the inside of our children. Whether it’s a naked two-year-old using it as a urinal, or the kid in the infirmary who didn’t quite make it to the bathroom during his stomach virus, the couch is like a toilet for your children. But it signed up to be a couch.
So let’s give it up for your couch now and your couch as a child. Those things are givers, providers, nurturers, and free babysitters.
If couches were alive, they would have short life spans. No couch could actually survive what our children put them through. If there is a hell and you’re sent there, maybe you just come back as a couch … or a bounce house.