As much as Timothy loved being with us, and as cosy as he liked to be with blankets, he didn’t THAT often actually want to sit on our laps.
When he was younger, as we all sat in the living room he’d only properly settle if I was there too – but even then, very rarely sat on or with me. He would regularly sit on Annette’s lap, but not mine.
As he got older and more comfortable and confident, he’d nearly always sit on a chair on his own. A different one each time, no set chair, unless there was a blanket on one chair and no other – then he’d pick that one.
Towards the end of his life, he’d have the WHOLE three-seater sofa to himself with a blanket at one end, his bed in the middle, and the bare leather seat at the other end. He’d move between all three in an evening.
If either of us were in the “wrong” seat, most often Annette, he’d pace around looking at the crap seats and turf us out of the way. Regularly – nearly every time in fact – if we got up for something, he’d be in OUR seat when we got back. We never minded of course, we just wanted him to be comfortable and happy.