It Was an Ugly Couch Anyway: And Other Thoughts on Moving Forward

by Elizabeth Passarella

And then there is the big reason that I prefer a smaller, closed kitchen: islands have barstools. And barstools invite children to sit down with their homework and interact with me. Trying to make dinner under these conditions is like being on a cooking show where the contestant has to simultaneously pull apart a rotisserie chicken and recall the lead-up to the French and Indian War.

Think about coming to the end of a dispute with a toddler. What do you get? Pants? A final bite of salami? The trucks in the basket? Not to underestimate the satisfaction of getting two legs through separate holes in underwear, but the denouement, so to speak, is blandly getting on with your day.

We had to move fast, taking turns unzipping our souls as efficiently as possible so that we could properly catch up and still deal with everyone’s anxieties and marital problems and general crap before it was time to go home. We managed.