The Most Joyous Thing

I think I may have mentioned before we have a purple yoga ball in the house.   I don’t do yoga.   That’s not to say I haven’t tried, it wasn’t for me, too much holding still.  And here’s the think about holding still—it’s hard.   Especially in the positions the yoga instructor tells us we’re suppose to be in.   At any rate, my children love the purple ball.  

It was an afterthought of a Christmas present from Santa on account of Santa only brings the children one gift a piece and the ones my children were getting this past Christmas were rather small in size.   So throw in a five dollar yoga ball from China, blown up large beside the tree and surely it would be a happy Christmas morning.  

Today, six months later, I don’t remember what they got as presents from Santa but that purple ball is still a big item in our house.   It has a “home” beside the couch in the living room although it makes its rounds across all three floors of our house.   My daughter is the ball’s biggest fan, having learned to do some impressive bouncing routines on it utilizing other pieces of furniture and scaring most adults in the vicinity who watch her when she does.

My husband sent me a text two days ago with the words, “I think the purple ball is the most joyous thing in the house” referring to my daughter’s infatuation with the ball.  

Only now there is trouble brewing because my son has recently decided he wants to have time with the purple ball too.   Mind you, he’s never cared about it before, but perhaps since it looks so very fun with my daughter launching her feet into the air, he wants a turn too.    And this has lowered the overall joy of the purple ball, mostly because squabbling has arisen around it.

This may well be the next iteration of “the favorite seat”.   My husband and I are already working on ideas to help the children come up with ways to manage time with the purple ball that doesn’t involve hitting, yelling or crying.    We’ll see how well we’ve fared in a week after we count the bruises.

The Big Boy Update:  My son got a card from one of his teachers thanking him for his end of year gift.   As he opened the laser cut, multi-colored card he exclaimed, “what a work of art!”

The Tiny Girl Chronicles:  At dinner last night my daughter asked, “who’s at the head of the table” since she couldn’t see who was sitting where.   Her following question was a surprise but I suppose followed logically, “well, then who’s the armpit of the table?”   My husband explained that he and I were sitting across from each other so he supposed we’d be the armpits.   My son was a step ahead though and said, “no, daddy and mommy would be the arms of the table.   The armpits would be the next level down.”