I’ve been thinking a lot about some real important stuff.
You know, in between showing my kids how I look just like Tom Cruise when I slide across the floor with my undies and wayfarers on. They might debate it, but seriously, I do. It’s uncanny.
But then I tried it with my fuzzy minky socks, and I almost broke my neck because I was soaring so fast over the hardwood. I felt like an eagle. No, a dove. No, a raven. Yah, ravens are cool. Point is, those minky socks really got me going. You know those socks? The ones that they sell at Target and you’re like, no I don’t need any more socks, what I need is a spatula and dog treats and THAT’S IT. But there you are in the sock isle, AGAIN, perusing for a pair that will not only propel you over that make-shift ramp you configured out of duplos and a roof from the doll house, but also give you some street cred from your kids. Because they’re all, Nah, Mom, you can’t get air off that ramp and That will never support your weight. And you’re like, I’ll show you!! I just need the right SOCKS!
So there I was icing my neck, when we decided to go out to dinner. Somewhere classy. With pendant lights and a violin. Just kidding. We were planning on going to Ruby’s. Just kidding, Corky’s 24-hour diner. Just kidding, we went to Royal Donuts.
Whatever, it doesn’t matter where we went, what matters is mama got a night off from cooking and we all sat together and ate some stuff.
But I noticed something while eating: a TV.
And then we went out the next week, there it was again, a TV.
And the next week, TV.
Why the crap do you need to watch a TV when you’re out to dinner? Is your family so completely lame that you need to be distracted by Survivor to white-knuckle it through? And I’m not talking about cheapy diners either. I’m talking about shelling out close to 100 bucks to take your family of 2 adults and one and a half kids out for a delicious meal.
Is the TV necessary?
Sure we can get into politics about how the television is destroying our minds and rotting our brains. How it’s toxicity is so abhorrent and how the level of addiction is so powerful that we constantly need to have it on in our homes, and now our restaurants. How eating is supposed to be a community experience, and no community is taking place if we are paring down our conversation to lackluster fodder during the commercial breaks of Wipe Out.
Sure I can talk about that.
But here’s what really chaps my hide.
My daughter can’t take her eyes off it.
She’s spell bound.
Can’t stop watching it.
Might as well be the Disneyland Main Street Parade.
What’s a mom to do?
Perhaps I should just get my ass back in the kitchen and cook for my family, and leave the sliding around in minky socks to my husband.