I am a mama bear. I know this for certain. I growl when anyone dares to hurt my cub (even though he's a biter himself). I have the softest pillows and the snuggliest blankets, with the exception of perhaps, Blankie. But, Blankie is an entity unto itself (himself, herself?).
I try to keep a nice house. Pretty things. Curtains that match the carpets that match the furniture that matches the towels, hand soaps, and dishrags. I have a rule: we do not have motion furniture in the house. It makes me nervous. It moves. Willingly. Furniture should not voluntarily disjoint itself only to recover hours later. It provides dangerous opportunities for smashed fingers and pinched kitty tails. And, most of the time, it's just ugly.
But.
We have a new addition. It's brown and cuddly. It's comforting. R.J. likes it, and I do too. A recliner in my living room?! How did this happen? (discount website, quality furniture, the rest is history--I can't resist a good bargain). The recliner isn't ugly. It's leather with nail head trim. It matches the carpet that matches the drapes that match the dishrags. It does make me nervous. It moves. And Boo and Ben are determined to have pinched tails.
Mama Bear is, however, content. Because, the circle is complete. [Our living room is a testament to only children: three chairs, all in a row, not one touching the other.]. Mama Bear's chair is light green with graceful lines. It is the perfect size to rock a toddler to sleep. Baby Bear has a chair too. (note: when in doubt, always buy the dark colored toddler furniture. I didn't. It shows everything). And now, Papa Bear has a recliner. And, we have decided, that this is just right.
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