In the late afternoon
winter sun fading in the street outside,
I recline in the plush arms of new leather.
My daughter, two years old, barely three feet high,
has for the first time adopted that classic
“child watching TV” position.
Yes she is lying on her front
propped up on her elbows,
her feet slowly kicking up and down
alternately in the air.
Later she begins to shift
between this and kneeling.
Her feet tucked neatly under her
forming the perfect cushion.
As she chatters away to the friendly
foam and latex clad actors
that dance across the screen,
I ask if she would like to sit on my lap.
We could snuggle down,
watch together I suggest – maybe sing along?
But politely she refuses.
Not for her the sensibilities of adult sitting.
The imagination confining furniture.
She just returns to her prone position
and as the next song begins
she giggles like a jelly.
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