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Best Lap Sitter

Version 2 “He’s our best lap sitter,” Son said. My almost three-year-old Grand spots a lap and climbs or crawls or rolls into it. While Son sat on the floor, Neil ran to him and plopped in his daddy’s lap and leaned back. Son hugged Neil tightly.

I’d noticed that Neil seemed to have built-in radar for his mother’s lap. She sat on the couch to fold clothes. Neil climbed into her lap. She sat to repair a pair of glasses. Neil climbed into her lap.  It’s said that a mother’s lap is the safest place on Earth, and I agree, but Neil likes all laps.

After Son talked about Neil being a lap sitter, I watched my young Grand that day. Husband held Annie, Neil’s one-year-old sister, on his lap as he read a book aloud. Neil ran into the room and immediately scrambled to sit beside Annie, but he never said a word and Husband kept reading. And my Grand didn’t move until Husband stood up.

I sat in the floor with my legs crisscrossed while Annie crawled around me, picking up toys and tossing them aside. When she got almost out of my reach, I lunged and held her ankle. Neil ran to me. “I’ll help,” he said and wrapped both arms around Annie, pulling her toward me. Then he plopped onto my legs.

Lunchtime, only Neil and I sat across the kitchen table from each other. The others, Neil’s parents and two siblings and Husband, had finished eating, put their dirty dishes in the dishwasher, and moved on. Neil enjoyed every bite, slowly. One bite, chew. Minutes later, another bite. No need to rush this boy with his food. I was happy to sit with him.

My Grand placed his flat hands on each side of his plate, leaned toward me, “Gran, I’m going to sit in your seat!” He jumped from his booster seat onto the floor and then picked up his plate and set it beside mine. He climbed onto my lap, wiggled to get comfortable, and fifteen minutes later finished eating his peanut butter sandwich and strawberries.

After lunch, I sat in a rocking chair and held Neil. He crossed his arms across his chest and curled his legs, making himself small. “Rock, Gen,” he said. (He’s working on saying Gran. Sometimes it’s Grannie. Sometimes Gigi, his other grandmother’s name. Sometimes Gen or Gran.) I rocked slowly and he scrunched his closed eyes.

“Neil, afternoon rest time in about five minutes,” his mother said. My Grand pulled himself into a tighter ball and turned his head toward me. “Mama, I’m asleep,” he said. Then he peeked, his eyes a narrow open slit, and looked up at me. “Shhh.   I’m asleep.”

I rocked and wrapped my arms around Neil. He wrinkled his nose and squinted several times, as if to be sure I was looking at him and agreed that he was asleep. A few minutes later Neil’s mother said, “Neil, wake up, and come with me. It’s time to sleep upstairs in your bed.”

“Shhh. I’m asleep,” he said. His mother gently lifted him into her arms and my Grand flutter his eyelashes and said, “Good night, Gran.” I let him know I would be ready to rock with him after his nap.

I hope Neil never gets too old to be a lap sitter. Hugging and reading and talking just naturally go with lap sitting.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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