And... we're off.

When I was growing up "the Mama" always had a couch as the room divider in our kitchen/dining room/den.  It was always just there - anchored by a sofa table, area rug, end tables - fronted by a coffee table.  The "island" for the seating arrangement that stretched all the way through-out the den.  The centerpiece.  The main show.  The middle of the race track...

When we (lil' brother, big brother and myself (and any kids that thought they belonged to "the Mama")) would get in trouble it never failed that we used that couch to our advantage.  Yep - lap one (run from "the Mama"), lap two (keep running from "the Mama")...

and there never was a lap three.

NOT because "the Mama" hurtled the couch and grabbed the culprit's shirt collar.  Nope.

The floor underneath the area rug and stretching alllllllllllllll the way through the main living area was linoleum. On lap number one (while running from "the Mama") a girl could pick up some speed on the area rug.  Good traction.

Rounding the far corner it was always a do-or-die situation.  Depending on footwear.  Socks were NEVER good for running from "the Mama" and trouble-makin' forethought was a must while wardrobe planning each morning. Socks + linoleum = roller derby. Sometimes I was armed and ready for the trips 'round the couch - the do-or-die turn, and I'd head into lap number two without injury - 'round the corner, hit the area rug, pick up speed...
and after once again missing the do-or-die corner and gaining my momentum back...

I could shoot right out the back door, "the Mama" yelling "GET BACK HERE" while I ran for my Barbies, my mud pies, the tree fort in the backyard... or my brother's tonka trucks that hauled Barbies better than any Barbie car ever could.  I always knew that I'd have to go back in sometime, but I still giggled 'cause I had gotten away - made the great escape!  Same with my brothers.  They might not ever admit it, but they had their fair share of laughs.

A couch serves many purposes:

It is the greatest of shields from flying spoons, pennies, rubber bands... what-ever missiles are being fired at your head.

The cushions can sometimes be the most deadly of weapons.

Underneath it offers storage of sibling possessions better than any closet system or lock box ever invented.  Even BETTER if the couch is a hideaway - storage like you never knew you had.

If the couch can be hurtled - without rear-end injury - you can hang with the big kids.

If the couch can be hurtled - then a flip produced prior to landing (on your feet) - then you are way cool and have to teach everyone how you did that.

The couch is a fantastic launch pad for any and all high-fives you feel the ceiling might need.

The couch has a brother named "Trampoline". The two are easily confused.

When you need some extra height (couch-cushion warfare sometimes calls for it) the arms of the couch are perfect... just plant your feet slightly apart for balance.

The arms of a couch are a perfect balance beam - and when you get braver - the back of a couch is even perfecter.

A couch can build great strength and endurance.  Just run up and down it 10 times (with the cushions on) and you can feel it in all leg muscles. 14 trips up and down a 3-cushion couch couch burns 367 calories.

And... if positioned just so... the couch is a great grand-stand for watching a foot-race.

Comin' to you LIVE from a single-wide (where I'm thinkin' "the Mama" had her hands full)... hee-hee
;-)  robelyn

P.S. Do you call it a couch?  A sofa?  A divan?