So I fear our youngest son (who just received his mission call--sort of--long story to Concepcion, Chile this week) is distressed by a relatively new pattern Ken and I have settled into. We have our "programs"--shows we look forward to watching at the end of the day. And I can tell from our baby's face on those rare weekends when he comes home that he's disturbed by how much his parents have suddenly aged. He sees us sitting there, enjoying another episode of THE GOOD WIFE or CASTLE or PERSON OF INTEREST or especially REVENGE and in his mind we're just a step away from breaking out the lap afghans, removing our dentures, and shouting at the other (because we can't hear) to turn on THE LAWRENCE WELK SHOW.
Which I kind of secretly enjoy, actually. The LWS, I mean. Seriously, I can never resist a quartet wearing striped vests and tangerine-colored slacks.
3 comments:
Yep. Reminds me of when my youngest son moved in with me for a while, a few years ago. He was mortified to find me watching TV and eating peanut butter out of the jar with a spoon. "I've heard of people doing that," he said, "but I didn't think I'd see it happen to my own dad." He didn't appreciate that I had protected his delicate sensibilities by using a spoon.
OMG me too. I truly, truly feel like watching television at the end of the day--the show I have waited for all day long--is my just reward. TV. It is so choice.
Yeah, Chile sounds like fun.
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