Saturday Mornings

They say that having a child means that, in a way, you get to relive your childhood.

What do I remember the most about childhood? Saturday mornings, still in pj's, parked in front of the tv with a bowl of Cheerios. It was a ritual at our house. And it was imperative to sit 1 foot away from the screen . . .yes, I do wear glasses now.

Talking to my parents later, they told me that they very intentionally taught us at an early age how to prepare ourselves a bowl of cereal and operate the tv. Saturday morning was their morning to get to sleep in. Genius plan, I say. I'm taking notes.

We had one of those console tv's that looked like a piece of furniture. You know, one of these. The buttons didn't depress, they were temperature sensitive, and I used to see how lightly I could brush my fingers against it and change the channel. Only your skin could make it change channels. Toys, pencils, etc. would not (believe me, I tried LOTS of items).

I even took it to another level. My brother taught me, at the ripe old age of 4, to operate the VCR. So, not only did I watch my cartoons, I recorded them and watched them over and over again all week long. That's a lot of Smurfs and Loony Tunes.

Mysteriously, my parents never complained about this habit. My sister, however, is permanently anti-Smurf.

I suspect that Ian approves of this ritual as well. Only instead of Smurfs and Looney Tunes he's watching Martha Speaks and Dinosaur Train. This past Saturday I relived my childhood just a little.

I shared my yogurt, he shared his Cheerios.

It was pretty awesome.