It Skips A Generation

I love dogs. Intensely. My Mom isn't as fond of them, but my Grandma has always shared my passion with me. We've joked that some things skips a generation....

And I've found what has skipped me and landed on my son.

As a kid, I remember my Mom moving furniture around the house, rearranging couches and chairs and hope chests and usually it was all by herself and it never mattered what time it was. If the urge to change things came on, it was changing time. I grew up knowing I could move anything I wanted if I just used my leg muscles. An adult now, I don't really move furniture. Only when I have to, like with the addition of a lovely piano.

But guess who I called to help me figure out how to squeeze that music box in my living room? Yep. My Mom. Queen of furniture arranging! And I have not varied from that arrangement for the last couple of years. It is perfect.

Last night my son came downstairs and asked if I remembered offering to trade desks with him. Um, yes. Before that monster of a desk went up to his room, before it took two men to get it up there, I did offer to trade the roll top desk in my room for it......Was that offer still open? I guess, but how on earth will that desk come downstairs at 10pm?

He'll do it with Dad.

How does Dad feel about that? My gracious husband said sure, and after we emptied desks, moved enough dust around to make the air thick with it, shoved furniture out of the way and scratched up walls, the desks were switched around.

I fell asleep listening to my son moving things around in his room upstairs and it was a nostalgic feeling. It reminded me of being a kid, listening to my Mom do the same thing.

Mom, met your first Grandson, furniture mover extraordinaire!