My four-year-old son likes to sit with me in our recliner to watch cartoons. When I say sit with me, of course I mean sit on top of me. That’s okay though, he only weighs a few pounds more than a big bag of kitty litter and he’s more fun to watch cartoons with than a sack of granulated clay is.

The boy usually announces his intention to set up camp on top of me with the words, “Daddy, I want to be with you.” Then he climbs up and snuggles himself in while I guard my tender spots from wayward elbows and knees. Once he settles in, it’s not the least bit uncomfortable, and it’s nice to watch cartoons together.

Since we don’t lack sweaters or blankets in our house, we don’t like to run the heat too high, even on cold winter nights. My son and I help keep each other warm as we sit together in our recliner. If I can avoid injury during the climbing up and down portion of this together time, it presents what would seem to be a great bonding opportunity.

The other night, it seemed particularly cold in the house. The temperature had just plunged back into January after a short, mid-winter thaw. It always seems much colder after a fleeting taste of spring.

My son was sitting with me on the recliner when he noticed his mother spreading a thick, cozy comforter over herself on the couch. Before I knew what happened, I was sitting alone. The boy was installing himself next to his mother, under her inviting blanket.

“What?” I asked, in the disappointed tone of one suddenly abandoned. “I thought you said you wanted to be with me.”

He shrugged. “I found someone else I wanted to be with.”

So much for our great bonding opportunity.

Watching cartoons in the good old days, before a sudden cold snap left me cast aside for somebody more cozy.