My nine-year-old son and I were just watching Seinfeld and doing the Elaine dance around the living room. You know, the one where she sticks her thumbs out and bounces around like she’s having a seizure? It reminded me of what I’m thankful for this year.
This summer the Rizzutos were on vacation at a large northeastern amuesment park. At one point we decided to get on one of those huge plastic slides, the one where you have to slide down on a burlap sack. While we were waiting in line we were talking about our previous trips to amusement parks. My son reminded us of the first time he went on one of those slides when he was little.
“I was scared to go down,” he said. “Then Mom saw me and she climbed up and went down the slide with me.”
I didn’t remember that at all, but it made me feel good. My parents would never have done something like that with me when I was his age. Not that they were bad parents, they just weren’t…what’s the word…? Fun. They weren’t fun.
I’m glad I’m not the kind of parent that’s too uptight to go down the Big Slide, and I’m thankful that my son remembered that, of all things. Because he could have remembered some other stuff that I can’t blog about.
I’m going to go lay down now. I think I hurt myself doing the Elaine dance. Happy You Know What.