Favorite Things Monday: "Well You Can Try ..."

This tiny rocking chair came from PapaTime (Wifey's Dad), a lover of antiques and family history. As the legend goes, PapaTime's parents bought a rambling old farmhouse on a stretch of land in the country near Watertown, NY. Another structure near the main house, previously used as an antique store, became the "Bunk House" where PapaTime and his brothers (the Bro's) slept. The former owners left several antiques in the attic of the Bunk House, most of which were incorporated into family life. This little chair was one of the Bunk House finds, and throughout the years has comforted most of the small children in the family. Shortly after Little Man was born, PapaTime brought the chair to our home, thrilled to pass along a family treasure.

The little quilt was a wedding gift from Wifey's best friend's Mom, who was also Wifey's Mom's best friend. Make sense? At first, I was unsure where to put a small quilt. For a couple years, it hung on the wall. But when the chair came home, the quilt found the perfect location. The two pieces together, despite getting little use, are a central part of our living room decor.

This weekend, in the midst of crazy crafting, Little Man and I did some excellent snuggling on the couch, while Wifey perched on the matching chair. When Little Man decided that he was finished snuggling and turned the couch into a trampoline, I vacated. With no place to go, I tried to convince Little Man to stop jumping. Instead, he offered the rocking chair. When I explained that my bum was too big for his rocking chair, he said, "well you can try ..."

"Well you can try" and all its various iterations has become something of a Mafia Family mantra lately. Little Man started it, and now Wifey and I catch ourselves saying it too. There's a very specific Little Man intonation which is challenging to mimic. But mimic we do.

For the most part, "well you can try" is charming, loving and supportive, all characteristics that I attempt to nurture in my boy. But occassionally, as in the case of the big ass vs. small rocking chair situation, he's actually trying to manipulate the situation. He's taking a cute little family mantra and trying to turn it around on me, the wee beastie. In full knowledge of this, I just walked into the kitchen to make a cup of tea. I was halfway there when he jumped from the couch and ran after me, completely forgetting about his trampo-couch and the attempts to lure me away from it with the carrot of a too-small chair.