One thing I love about my rocking chair

When we were buying stuff because we were going to have a baby, I sortof demanded a rocking chair.

I pictured myself sitting up with the baby at night rocking back and forth back and forth back and forth and singing about how I'd love him forever and like him for always.

I was fairly certain that the rocking chair would be magic, and my son would love it as much as I did. And when he turned 35 he'd come home and beg me to let him sit on my lap while I rocked him back and forth, back and forth, back and forth.

I spent roughly 10 million hours in that chair, in the early morning, in the middle of the night, during the long and lazy afternoons. I rocked him to sleep and I woke him up in that chair.

And I loved it. And I've never regretted buying that chair.

But when John was on the way, there was no more room in the boys' room for a chair, so it became a living room chair. And Tommy (and I) fell in love with it all over again.