Saint James’ perch.

sjamesIn our kitchen we have one little spot, with one little stool, at which we keep the laptop. It’s the spot where Doctor Dash and I each have our first sips of coffee in the morning, checking email through bleary eyes. It’s the spot where Dash has a beer after work while I finish cooking dinner. We chat, a little or a lot, depending on the vagaries of mood and stress. It’s the spot where we listen to and download music. It’s the spot where I do a lot of my writing and most of my surfing. It’s not the most comfortable spot in the world, but if we’re downstairs, it’s most likely to be where Dash or I are sitting. 

So if you’re a boy who likes to snuggle, you figure out a way to fit in that spot. I can’t tell you how many times he has come down in the morning with crazy bed head wearing his blanket like a shepherd and slipped in behind me on the stool. Taking a cue from the other primates of the world, he seems to understand instinctively that even when you’re too big for mama’s front side, there may still be room for you on mama’s backside. It wasn’t until I saw Saint James sidle in behind Dash that I took note of it with the part of my brain that actually notices things. Perched as he was, he reminded me of a lemur or a monkey. But unlike a lemur or a monkey, who might cling to a parent’s back for protection or mobility or warmth, Saint James perches just because.

Because he can still fit.

Because he wants to.

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