I moved the living room furniture last week, pushing the sofa directly in front of our bay window. (It’s air conditioner season here, so I don’t anticipate opening the window anytime soon.) I was completely not expecting the enthusiastic response I got from both my kids, who appeared to be positively thrilled with the new arrangement. My daughter was actually dancing around the room. “Why?” I finally asked. “Why do you like the furniture this way?”
“For our nest!!” my daughter announced. And, yes, by the next afternoon there was a pile behind the sofa, and the spot was officially dubbed their “nest.”
There are no fewer than nine blankets and six pillows back there. The amount of stuff in that nook, which is maybe eight feet at it’s very widest point (but it’s a bay, so it narrows to about 3 1/2′), looks ridiculous. (Actually, to be honest, it looks quite comfy.) All the blankets and pillows are tumbled and tossed together, in a jumble of chaos where the “dividing line” between my kids’ spaces is vaguely discernable by a color change: one side is mostly blue, one side is mostly pink. It’s the definition of “excess.”
If one of the high points of my kids’ summer is the ability to make a “nest;” to snuggle in behind the sofa, in the dappled shade of the trees that grow just outside the window, and read a book; or to just hang out together (as they often do)…..then, isn’t that a definition of simplicity?