At 8:15 I woke up in a panic because I thought we were late for something, but very quickly I remembered that this particular Friday we had nothing planned. No playdate. No swim lesson. No running date. (At least not with the children. That was to come this evening. Another trail adventure for the moms.) In that particular moment, after a week of driving to and fro' SC, and having places to be at particular times, I felt very relieved.
Heath was up a minute later, before I could even get my first cup of coffee poured. He immediately expressed interest in watching a movie. The outside world looked gloomy, not very enticing for a morning at the pool, so I agreed. A movie was a great idea.
From the stacks of DVDs, he somehow unearthed Sesame Street Old School, Volume 1, 1969-1974. I forgot we even owned the collection. He was holding Disc 3. I had a vague sense of worry and concern, after all the label on the disc is very specific that these episodes are no longer within the confines of what is suitable for children. Strangers take children into apartments to give them candy. Oscar is pretty much a complete jackass with his contemptuous, irreverent characterization. Snuffaluffagus is still invisible, and no one believes poor Big Bird when he tells them about his languid, furry friend.
But we watched it anyway. I figured if questions about taking candy from strangers came up, I would answer them. And frankly, as we began Episode 406 from November 27, 1972, I was thrilled to find no Elmo. No lame excuse for a hip-hop attempt at a theme song. Just a leisurely, tambourine-laden little ditty about sunny days sweeping the clouds away. Then right into the alphabet. Every letter matched with a character. Big Bird's head was significantly smaller. Oscar was less green. And Roosevelt, smooth, velvet-voiced Roosevelt, is no longer with us.
Slowly, but surely, they rolled through various skits regarding our beloved alphabet. Just as I was beginning to ponder my on-going thought that children's television today is too loud, too revved up, and too quickly animated, Heath and Stella began to roll around on the bed, grabbing each other's puppy and blanket, jumping and shrieking and squawking. Old School was turned off and mommy and daddy's bed was off limits. We retreated to the kitchen for French Toast and continued our Friday of mayhem until I couldn't take it anymore, tossed the kids in the car and sped off to get some fresh air, smoothies, and Gu.
Fridays. Just when I'm pooped, I need a plan for the kids more than ever. Lesson learned. Until next time.
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