On Super Bowl Sunday, I subjected our six-year-old twins to ten minutes of the big game as well as the halftime show. I don’t usually make William and Vivian watch TV, though I may have done this one or two hundred times on Saturday mornings when I’ve been trying to read the newspaper.
On this cold Sunday, though, I forced my kids to watch the Super Bowl by banishing them to the basement.
Because I wanted to feel what it would be like if the women’s movement never happened, I was barefoot in our kitchen, cleaning up dinner dishes and minding the children while their father lounged downstairs watching the football game. Vivian and William were eating fresh strawberries from the 10,000-Mile-Diet we stick to each winter. I decided to run downstairs and check on the score.
I believe I was complaining to my husband about football’s repeated stoppages-in-play when I heard something smash onto our tile floor. I was pretty sure it wasn’t a child. Regardless, I sprinted upstairs and saw William standing amidst glass shards and three glistening strawberries.
“Don’t move,” I yelled.
“I’m sorry, Mom,” he said, eyes bulging with sincerity. Or fear.
I slipped on my Birkenstocks (because fashion is important to me) and reiterated my earlier instructions. “Stay still,” I said. “You too, Vivian.”
“But Mom,” William said, “It was my fault, not Vivian’s.”
I lifted William to safety, and sent him and his sister to the basement. They scurried.
Once I had safely cut my finger, swept, and vacuumed, I did the Masochistic Mother Barefoot Test. Then I joined the family in the basement.
William cuddled with me, atoning. Vivian went to bat for her brother, explaining that he had just been trying to put the bowl back in the fridge when it fell.
Meanwhile, we watched American football. Vivian and William desperately wanted to watch The Backyardigans instead, but we were steadfast. If we don’t subject them to American culture, how else will our kids know they’re Canadian? We Canucks tend to define ourselves by who we’re not.
And so the enculturation continued, even through the Black Eyed Peas’ halftime set. I knew it was time to get out of the abyss when Vivian pointed to Fergie and said, “She is so pretty.” Images of my daughter asking for a Pole Dancing Doll for her seventh birthday assaulted me.
We watched, transfixed. The kids know the Peas’ hit I Gotta Feeling because I put it on their Christmas CD.
When the spectacle ended, the three of us traipsed upstairs. “I don’t like that song anymore,” William said.
Indeed.
Photos (cc) Flickr: GC Fairch, Sam Howzit, jhf686
What I take away from this posting is that you Made Your Children a CD. I feel like a useless parent by comparison. Although I did fashion a homemade iPod for my daughter’s Halloween costume. But CD’s – that’s technology!
Funny post as always and I learned a new word: enculturation.
Well, as always, the CD was made on Christmas Eve. Without a deadline, I never would have done it. Yet another reason I don’t scrapbook!
I’m with the kids – it was a sad halftime show. I’m not sure if it was the artists fault, or the horrible sound job.
Either way, Fergie should never EVER sing Sweet Child ‘O Mine again. Or try to sing at all really…
Glad no Things or mother’s feet were harmed during Canadian Appreciation Time and I hope the finger recovers quickly.
I love the cuddle time…
I agree that the sound quality of the halftime show was abysmal. (It took me 3 attempts to spell abysmal, by the way. Now there’s irony.)
Ummm… no – I beg to differ on one little itty bitty point. You Canucks tend to define yourselves not just by who you are NOT, but rather by taking every opportunity to emphasize the fact that you are NOT AMERICAN. I bet it would not bother any one of you if you were mistaken for a Swede, a German, a Russian, a Mexican, an Australian or a Japanese. Just as long you were not mistaken for someone from south of the 49th parallel.
(Learned from more than 24 years of observing Canucks… at close quarters and from afar…)
I think you are right. I suspect it comes from sleeping near a giant.
“Masochistic Mother Barefoot Test.” God bless your sole(s).
🙂
Okay, so that emoticon of mine is the lamest reply ever.
I am American but I tell everyone I am Canadian (especially during the Superbowl because after watching it with my son I realized I have no idea how football is played), but people ask me all the time if I am Australian. I think it is the red hair.
We will adopt you. Red hair and Australia? I don’t know about this correlation…
Good description of what moms do when someone breaks a glass.
Mothers: Cutting our selves so you wont have too!
True. Just like we give our kids the best pieces of meat / bread / etc.
Description of what mom’s do when glass breaks. Um, you might like this:
http://rasjacobson.wordpress.com/2010/05/21/lessons-from-fiestaware/
At least your incident involved cuddling. 😉
I’ll definitely check out the post. Thanks for the link!
Do you know how many children have broken plates since the beginning of recorded history? Me neither, but I doubt many, if any, moms can take that scene and drop a playback like this one. I love the line about barefoot moms and how he cuddled, atoning. But I absolutely adore this part:
“If we don’t subject them to American culture, how else will our kids know they’re Canadian? We Canucks tend to define ourselves by who we’re not.”
Humor (sorry, humour), culture, and social commentary all in one. Brilliant.
Thanks for commenting….By the way, the FFF Canadiana post is in the works. Slowly…
Just in reply, not that there is anything wrong with being American but yes most of us Canadians it would not bother us if we were mistaken for a Swede, a German, a Russian, a Mexican, an Australian or a Japanese …..etc. because most of us are.
“Because most of us are…” Yes, multiculturalism. Good point!
One time my son saw Fergie on the computer, pointed and said “mommy”, which I took as a compliment. Shortly after, he saw an image of the N Korean dictator and said my uncle’s name. He lost all credibility.
ROFL. I’d still take it as a compliment…Maybe Kim Jong-il just has one of those faces that looks like everyone.
Sheer brilliance from start to finish, Leanne. Great post!
Thanks, Larry. By the way, I’m patiently waiting for your next Cartoon Caption Post…
Friday is the day for Name That Toon. Can’t wait to see your caption!
“I don’t like that song anymore.”
I don’t know William but he’s got good taste in live music (or can recognize bad live music. either way.)
AND he worries about his sister being blamed.
AND he atones.
AND he’s been encultured.
I’m sure he has moments of imperfection, but right now? He is perfect in my eyes.
You can borrow him for a weekend if you like…
And no, he is not always that good. But he has moments.
Thanks, Julie!
Hello from Hammond River, New Brunswick!
I came via Clay’s passing along his award to you (have seen you at Chase’s place too)…if I wasn’t so lazy, I would have been here sooner!
“10,000-Mile-Diet” is brilliant!
You’ve got real Birkenstocks? Mine are knockoffs…
I have subscribed…
Wendy
You are kind. I’m heading over to check out your blog!