On Sunday, the girls and I sat in our warm room (the room that gets the blast of heat from the electric heater Tom set up to try and keep from having to call to order propane while it’s hideously expensive) and wrote out Valentines for their classes.
Obviously, Alyssa did all of hers, from signing her own name to writing the names of her classmates on the cards. Typical fifth graders are awesome as writing their names and the names of others.
I had Olivia write her own name one thirty-two valentines and then I wrote the names of each of her classmates because, yeah, having her write her classmates’ names on the cards would have frustrated both of us to no end.
She wants to dot the lower case i with a circle. This drives me insane. Did you know there are two lower case i’s in the name Olivia. There are! This made her name look messy and well, illegible.
I suggested to her that she try just dotting those i’s with a dot. She shrugged at me. I pressed the point a little more firmly, saying that an i doesn’t have a circle at the top of it, it has a dot.
The rest of her Valentines were beautiful with little dots above those i’s. I made sure to praise her for the excellence of her dots. I mean, sure, those circles are way more fun to write than a single little dot but the dots are so nice and precise. And, I reminded her, she has that big, lovely O at the beginning of her name for all her circular needs.
A mom, a dad and two daughters. We're living ordinary lives with a twist of 5p- (Cri du Chat) for spice. But we're about so much more than our younger daughter's genetic diagnosis.
Tuesday, February 11, 2014
Monday, February 10, 2014
Yellow
Olivia’s class has a color system so the kids can be aware of their behavior and adjust it as necessary. They start out on green, move to yellow if their behavior becomes less than favorable and down to red if things get really bad. They have the option of changing their behavior throughout the day in an effort to get back to green.
I actually did not know about this system until last Friday. See, Olivia has never been on anything but green. That’s not a brag so much as just a statement of fact. Olivia’s social issues are more internal than external. She’s not one to act out so much as she’s one to pull into herself when she’s overwhelmed. Sort of the idea ‘special needs’ student, I’d think, if you’re a teacher with a lot of special needs kids in your classroom.
Anyway.
How did we find out about the color system on Friday? Because Olivia came home Friday afternoon with a bone to pick with her father. She was pissed at him, is what she was.
She came home and gave him hell. Why? Because he’d forgotten to put her backpack on her that morning. And showing up to school without a backpack and thus, without your folder, automatically puts a child on yellow for the day. There is no way to adjust your behavior to move off yellow when your backpack and folder are at home.
Tom said it was the funniest little rant he’s ever been subjected to. I wish I’d been there to see it. He also said he’ll never forget to put her backpack on her again. When he said that Olivia put her hands on her hips and declared, “You better not!”
I think perhaps the teacher’s point was made. Even if O’s dad forgets her backpack in the future, SHE won’t forget to remind him. And isn’t that part of growing up? She’s becoming more responsible for her own things. I’m beginning to think landing on yellow wasn’t the worst thing to happen to her, even if at the time, she felt like it was.
I actually did not know about this system until last Friday. See, Olivia has never been on anything but green. That’s not a brag so much as just a statement of fact. Olivia’s social issues are more internal than external. She’s not one to act out so much as she’s one to pull into herself when she’s overwhelmed. Sort of the idea ‘special needs’ student, I’d think, if you’re a teacher with a lot of special needs kids in your classroom.
Anyway.
How did we find out about the color system on Friday? Because Olivia came home Friday afternoon with a bone to pick with her father. She was pissed at him, is what she was.
She came home and gave him hell. Why? Because he’d forgotten to put her backpack on her that morning. And showing up to school without a backpack and thus, without your folder, automatically puts a child on yellow for the day. There is no way to adjust your behavior to move off yellow when your backpack and folder are at home.
Tom said it was the funniest little rant he’s ever been subjected to. I wish I’d been there to see it. He also said he’ll never forget to put her backpack on her again. When he said that Olivia put her hands on her hips and declared, “You better not!”
I think perhaps the teacher’s point was made. Even if O’s dad forgets her backpack in the future, SHE won’t forget to remind him. And isn’t that part of growing up? She’s becoming more responsible for her own things. I’m beginning to think landing on yellow wasn’t the worst thing to happen to her, even if at the time, she felt like it was.
Friday, February 7, 2014
Reality
I feel like some may think I sugarcoat our life. I know I am more prone to talk about the great things Olivia is doing and how smart she is and how funny she is.
So, in the spirit of honesty and keeping things ‘real’, I’ll list a few things that others might think of as negative aspects of a child with 5p- syndrome. Forgive me, though, if you find me putting a positive spin even on the less spectacular aspects of our reality. It’s just what I do.
Eating. Tom and I still tend to feed Olivia. Sure, she’s perfectly capable of holding a spoon or fork and getting food from her plate to her mouth but it can take forever and it can be messy. She likes having us feed her, prefers it over feeding herself and so, it’s what we do. It means she tends to eat more at each meal, which is always a plus when you have a child on the smaller side of average. It also means that meals take half as long as they would if we made/let her feed herself. On the bright side, she doesn’t have a feeding tube. She’s never had one and we’re so incredibly lucky in that regard.
Potty training. Olivia still wears a Pull Up at night. She’s fine all day long, pees and poos in the toilet just fine. Sure, she needs one of us to turn on the water in the sink after she’s finished because the water is hard to turn on in our house. But she can turn it off by herself, which, yay.
I don’t know if the night-time thing is a 5p- thing or if it’s just how our family rolls with peeing at night when you’re seven. I was a bed-wetter until I was at least eight years old. My poor mother had to wash sheets a lot when I was a child. They didn’t have Pull Ups when dinosaurs roamed the earth. Alyssa was also older than seven when she finally was able to go Pull Up free. So we have a history of being late nighttime potty bloomers, if you will.
Attention span. Olivia has the attention span of a gnat. Seriously. It can be infuriating when sitting with her doing kindergarten homework. Homework that should take maybe five minutes can run as long as twenty because she’s distracted by everything from a button on her shirt to a dust mite floating past her. She eventually gets it done but only after I’d pulled her back on task over and over and over again.
Sleep. Yes, it’s gotten so much better in the past couple of months. But before that it was horrible. Again, I don’t know if this is a 5p- issue or my own personal brand of stupid parenting mistakes but until the past few weeks, Olivia never, ever consistently slept through the night. She woke up at least twice, often more than that, just to make sure I was nearby. She’s always been fairly easy to get to sleep, just about twenty minutes of back/arm/leg/finger scratching and she’s out. I often wonder if those movies and television shows where parents tuck their kids in, turn off the light and leave the room while their kids are still awake are based in reality and I’m just living a special kind of sleep hell or if maybe more parents/kids are like us, needing special rituals, etc. to get kids to sleep.
Friends. Olivia does not care if she has friends. She will not (cannot?) speak to hear peers at school. Just last week she took a giant step and shared some of her lunch with a classmate who spoke to her first, asking if she could have a mini blueberry muffin. Olivia nodded and handed the girl a muffin. But she still didn’t actually talk to her. I worry about this.
What happens when O wakes up (assuming she will) socially and realizes that she wants friends but all those peers have already made lasting friendships and she’s on the outside looking in? Will second grade be too late to make friends? What about fifth grade? At what age are friendships solidified? I realize that even if her classmates do pair up as ‘besties’ in a couple of years, that doesn’t necessarily mean O will be excluded should she decide to actually try and make friends. But will she still be behind socially? Even if she wants to make friends, will be she know how?
We’re working with her, we expose her to lots of different venues in which to make friends, school only being one. But she’s sweet and funny and I hate that her peers might never know that because she can’t help but close herself off from them.
I want so much for her. I want her to efficiently feed herself, to be able to sleep through the night without a Pull Up, to be able to sit and do her homework with little to no supervision. And I want more than anything for her to have friends, people she can trust with her deepest secrets, people she loves who love her back. I suppose I want for her what every parent wants for their child, special needs or not. I want her to be happy.
And I may have to reconcile that my version of happy isn't the same as hers. I'm working on that even as I plan what to feed to her for dinner tonight.
So, in the spirit of honesty and keeping things ‘real’, I’ll list a few things that others might think of as negative aspects of a child with 5p- syndrome. Forgive me, though, if you find me putting a positive spin even on the less spectacular aspects of our reality. It’s just what I do.
Eating. Tom and I still tend to feed Olivia. Sure, she’s perfectly capable of holding a spoon or fork and getting food from her plate to her mouth but it can take forever and it can be messy. She likes having us feed her, prefers it over feeding herself and so, it’s what we do. It means she tends to eat more at each meal, which is always a plus when you have a child on the smaller side of average. It also means that meals take half as long as they would if we made/let her feed herself. On the bright side, she doesn’t have a feeding tube. She’s never had one and we’re so incredibly lucky in that regard.
Potty training. Olivia still wears a Pull Up at night. She’s fine all day long, pees and poos in the toilet just fine. Sure, she needs one of us to turn on the water in the sink after she’s finished because the water is hard to turn on in our house. But she can turn it off by herself, which, yay.
I don’t know if the night-time thing is a 5p- thing or if it’s just how our family rolls with peeing at night when you’re seven. I was a bed-wetter until I was at least eight years old. My poor mother had to wash sheets a lot when I was a child. They didn’t have Pull Ups when dinosaurs roamed the earth. Alyssa was also older than seven when she finally was able to go Pull Up free. So we have a history of being late nighttime potty bloomers, if you will.
Attention span. Olivia has the attention span of a gnat. Seriously. It can be infuriating when sitting with her doing kindergarten homework. Homework that should take maybe five minutes can run as long as twenty because she’s distracted by everything from a button on her shirt to a dust mite floating past her. She eventually gets it done but only after I’d pulled her back on task over and over and over again.
Sleep. Yes, it’s gotten so much better in the past couple of months. But before that it was horrible. Again, I don’t know if this is a 5p- issue or my own personal brand of stupid parenting mistakes but until the past few weeks, Olivia never, ever consistently slept through the night. She woke up at least twice, often more than that, just to make sure I was nearby. She’s always been fairly easy to get to sleep, just about twenty minutes of back/arm/leg/finger scratching and she’s out. I often wonder if those movies and television shows where parents tuck their kids in, turn off the light and leave the room while their kids are still awake are based in reality and I’m just living a special kind of sleep hell or if maybe more parents/kids are like us, needing special rituals, etc. to get kids to sleep.
Friends. Olivia does not care if she has friends. She will not (cannot?) speak to hear peers at school. Just last week she took a giant step and shared some of her lunch with a classmate who spoke to her first, asking if she could have a mini blueberry muffin. Olivia nodded and handed the girl a muffin. But she still didn’t actually talk to her. I worry about this.
What happens when O wakes up (assuming she will) socially and realizes that she wants friends but all those peers have already made lasting friendships and she’s on the outside looking in? Will second grade be too late to make friends? What about fifth grade? At what age are friendships solidified? I realize that even if her classmates do pair up as ‘besties’ in a couple of years, that doesn’t necessarily mean O will be excluded should she decide to actually try and make friends. But will she still be behind socially? Even if she wants to make friends, will be she know how?
We’re working with her, we expose her to lots of different venues in which to make friends, school only being one. But she’s sweet and funny and I hate that her peers might never know that because she can’t help but close herself off from them.
I want so much for her. I want her to efficiently feed herself, to be able to sleep through the night without a Pull Up, to be able to sit and do her homework with little to no supervision. And I want more than anything for her to have friends, people she can trust with her deepest secrets, people she loves who love her back. I suppose I want for her what every parent wants for their child, special needs or not. I want her to be happy.
And I may have to reconcile that my version of happy isn't the same as hers. I'm working on that even as I plan what to feed to her for dinner tonight.
Thursday, February 6, 2014
Losing Big
I have a confession to make. I watch The Biggest Loser. Worse yet, Alyssa watches with me.
We watch and I try to comment on how unhealthy morbid obesity is and how I hope the people on the show are learning to eat right and exercise more because it’s the healthy thing to do.
I was glad, though, on Tuesday night, that Alyssa fell asleep before the three finalists came on stage.
I’ve been watching this show for years and never have I had a moment of shock and worry when I saw the lone female contest, Rachel, walk on stage. This girl started the competition at 260 pounds. She ended it at 105. And she looked awful. Her arms were so, so thin and her legs were tiny.
It occurred to me that this is a risk when we glorify huge weight loss and pay people to leave their family for months in order to work out six hours a day and ‘learn’ how to eat like a thin person.
But I have to admit that while I worried about that girl on the screen, that tiny girl who lost 155 pounds in probably six or so months, I also secretly admired her. I know. I know! It’s sick and sad and I hope she doesn’t lose more weight and that she is healthy and happy.
The first step to getting better is admitting something might be wrong, right? Our society places so much emphasis on being thin. Which is why I talk about being healthy when Alyssa and I watch the show together. I never, ever want her self-worth to be wrapped up on how much she weighs or what size her jeans are. I want her to be strong and healthy and happy.
For me, though, I have confess that I’m still pretty wrapped up on thinness. I am probably the healthiest I’ve been in years. I lost 59 pounds last year and I’m thrilled by that. But in my secret, evil heart, I found myself admiring Rachel’s control (which she might not even have). I admire the fact that she’s thin to the point of skinny. I know how sick that is and I feel horrible for even writing that.
But there it is. Our world makes being thin so much more important than being healthy. This girl won a quarter of a million dollars by getting skinny.
I don’t even want the money, but I do still, sort of want the skinny. And I know that’s wrong. I know it’s sick and I wish I didn’t feel that way.
But I’m working on it even as I try to foster healthiness in my children. I don’t talk about being thin around them. I talk about eating healthy and going for walks. I offer them healthy snacks and the occasional sweet treat because, duh, life is too short to never eat cookies.
Like I said, the first step to getting past something is admitting, right? And don’t worry, I do not want to weigh 105 pounds. Really, I don’t.
We watch and I try to comment on how unhealthy morbid obesity is and how I hope the people on the show are learning to eat right and exercise more because it’s the healthy thing to do.
I was glad, though, on Tuesday night, that Alyssa fell asleep before the three finalists came on stage.
I’ve been watching this show for years and never have I had a moment of shock and worry when I saw the lone female contest, Rachel, walk on stage. This girl started the competition at 260 pounds. She ended it at 105. And she looked awful. Her arms were so, so thin and her legs were tiny.
It occurred to me that this is a risk when we glorify huge weight loss and pay people to leave their family for months in order to work out six hours a day and ‘learn’ how to eat like a thin person.
But I have to admit that while I worried about that girl on the screen, that tiny girl who lost 155 pounds in probably six or so months, I also secretly admired her. I know. I know! It’s sick and sad and I hope she doesn’t lose more weight and that she is healthy and happy.
The first step to getting better is admitting something might be wrong, right? Our society places so much emphasis on being thin. Which is why I talk about being healthy when Alyssa and I watch the show together. I never, ever want her self-worth to be wrapped up on how much she weighs or what size her jeans are. I want her to be strong and healthy and happy.
For me, though, I have confess that I’m still pretty wrapped up on thinness. I am probably the healthiest I’ve been in years. I lost 59 pounds last year and I’m thrilled by that. But in my secret, evil heart, I found myself admiring Rachel’s control (which she might not even have). I admire the fact that she’s thin to the point of skinny. I know how sick that is and I feel horrible for even writing that.
But there it is. Our world makes being thin so much more important than being healthy. This girl won a quarter of a million dollars by getting skinny.
I don’t even want the money, but I do still, sort of want the skinny. And I know that’s wrong. I know it’s sick and I wish I didn’t feel that way.
But I’m working on it even as I try to foster healthiness in my children. I don’t talk about being thin around them. I talk about eating healthy and going for walks. I offer them healthy snacks and the occasional sweet treat because, duh, life is too short to never eat cookies.
Like I said, the first step to getting past something is admitting, right? And don’t worry, I do not want to weigh 105 pounds. Really, I don’t.
Wednesday, February 5, 2014
Another Snow Day
Alas, we’ve been hit with another winter storm. This one dropped a couple of inches on us last night and then another seven inches in the span of about three hours this morning.
The girls’ school was closed by 9:30 last night, freeing Alyssa to fall asleep at her leisure as she attempted to watch the finale of The Biggest Loser (OMG! The person who won ended up losing 155 freaking pounds. Holy crap!)
I got up at 6 this morning to monitor the weather and, well, duh, to get ready for work because twenty years ago I was stupid and changed my major from secondary education with a concentration in English to a BA in English Literature, so, yes, I have to work because I don’t work at a school.
I left for work at 7:10, about twenty minutes before I’d normally leave. I figured I was giving myself plenty of time to get to work. Alas, I made it less than a mile before encountering two vehicles in the ditch. I decided to ditch my own effort to get to work on time and turned around and went home.
It seems I was attempting to travel during the heaviest and blowiest part of the storm.
I waited a couple of hours and headed back out into a much lighter and yet still drifty snowfall.
But the time I was home was well spent. I made blueberry pancakes for Olivia for breakfast; I ran a load of laundry through the washer and I sat with the girls as they played on their tablets. It was a nice way to start my day.
Once I was back on the road, I only drove about 35mph the entire way to work. This seemed to have enraged the driver of a semi who came up on me when I was about halfway to work. He ended up passing me after riding my tail for several miles. Sadly for me (lucky for him) I did not come upon him in a ditch at any point. Why, yes, I can be quite vindictive. Why do you ask?
I’d made it 98% of the way to work, was in fact on the verge of turning into the parking lot when I hit a very slick spot and took a leisurely ninety degree spin, coming to a stop going in the opposite direction of that which I needed to go. I was lucky that there was a parking lot into which I could turn in order to make a course correction.
I made the turn just fine on the second try and reflected on the fact that I was very lucky that there were no vehicles coming in either direction as my car spun on the snow-covered ice.
And how was your day?
The girls’ school was closed by 9:30 last night, freeing Alyssa to fall asleep at her leisure as she attempted to watch the finale of The Biggest Loser (OMG! The person who won ended up losing 155 freaking pounds. Holy crap!)
I got up at 6 this morning to monitor the weather and, well, duh, to get ready for work because twenty years ago I was stupid and changed my major from secondary education with a concentration in English to a BA in English Literature, so, yes, I have to work because I don’t work at a school.
I left for work at 7:10, about twenty minutes before I’d normally leave. I figured I was giving myself plenty of time to get to work. Alas, I made it less than a mile before encountering two vehicles in the ditch. I decided to ditch my own effort to get to work on time and turned around and went home.
It seems I was attempting to travel during the heaviest and blowiest part of the storm.
I waited a couple of hours and headed back out into a much lighter and yet still drifty snowfall.
But the time I was home was well spent. I made blueberry pancakes for Olivia for breakfast; I ran a load of laundry through the washer and I sat with the girls as they played on their tablets. It was a nice way to start my day.
Once I was back on the road, I only drove about 35mph the entire way to work. This seemed to have enraged the driver of a semi who came up on me when I was about halfway to work. He ended up passing me after riding my tail for several miles. Sadly for me (lucky for him) I did not come upon him in a ditch at any point. Why, yes, I can be quite vindictive. Why do you ask?
I’d made it 98% of the way to work, was in fact on the verge of turning into the parking lot when I hit a very slick spot and took a leisurely ninety degree spin, coming to a stop going in the opposite direction of that which I needed to go. I was lucky that there was a parking lot into which I could turn in order to make a course correction.
I made the turn just fine on the second try and reflected on the fact that I was very lucky that there were no vehicles coming in either direction as my car spun on the snow-covered ice.
And how was your day?
Tuesday, February 4, 2014
Dreams
Before Olivia was conceived, I worried about how a younger sibling would affect Alyssa. She was my baby, she was my world. She was so perfect and wonderful and I felt selfish for wanting just one more little bit of perfection.
I worried that even if I did get one more speck of perfection, I wouldn’t be able to love that child as much as I love Alyssa.
Of course I was wrong. I was so wrong. Of course, like every parent of more than one child, I learned upon O’s birth that love isn’t finite. That is grows and consumes you and there is always, always room for more people in our hearts.
And I found out that perfection comes about in so many different ways. A geneticist might tell you that Olivia’s chromosomes are not perfect, but I disagree. She’s so perfectly Olivia. Just like Alyssa is so perfectly Alyssa.
I know how lucky I am. I know that having two healthy children is a blessing I cannot take for granted.
I also know that getting to sit and listen to Olivia describe her future is a blessing. The very fact that she speaks to us, in full sentences and even paragraphs defies all that doctors told us years ago. She runs, she does no-handed front somersaults. Seriously, she not only defies research into 5p- syndrome, she also defies gravity.
She asked me last weekend if she’d have big boobs when she’s a mom.
Yes, yes, she’s still semi-obsessed with boobs. She loves them. She no longer wants to touch mine all the time but she thinks about her own and wonders when they’re going to grow enough to warrant a daily bra.
I didn’t let the fact that doctors say she probably won’t be a mother stop me from answering her. “Yes, you’re boobs will probably get bigger when you are a mom.”
She grinned her toothy little kindergartener grin and announced that she was going to have two sets of twins, first a set of girls and then a set of boys. After I made the appropriately positive sounds at that idea, she changed her mind. She’s going to have two boys and a girl instead, with the girl being the older sister and the boys being the younger twins.
One of the first questions I asked our developmental pediatrician when she gave us O’s diagnosis was if she’d pass 5p- on to her kids. The doctor gave me one the only looks of pity this particular doctor ever gave me and said, “If she has children, she’ll have a fifty fifty chance of passing the syndrome on.”
I knew what she meant by both the words and the look. She meant that if Olivia is mentally capable of having children.
Olivia has a lot of dreams. She dreams of getting married, of having babies, of working with me in the same town so we can go to lunch together every day. Right now, she plans for her husband and children to just go ahead and live in the house in which we currently reside, with me and Tom possibly moving to the basement to make room for her and her family.
She’s seven years old. Chances are her dreams are going to grow and change and evolve over the years. And I’m going to help her make them come true. I am never, ever going to tell my daughter what she can’t do. I’m going to let her reach for those dreams and we’ll figure it all out together.
I worried that even if I did get one more speck of perfection, I wouldn’t be able to love that child as much as I love Alyssa.
Of course I was wrong. I was so wrong. Of course, like every parent of more than one child, I learned upon O’s birth that love isn’t finite. That is grows and consumes you and there is always, always room for more people in our hearts.
And I found out that perfection comes about in so many different ways. A geneticist might tell you that Olivia’s chromosomes are not perfect, but I disagree. She’s so perfectly Olivia. Just like Alyssa is so perfectly Alyssa.
I know how lucky I am. I know that having two healthy children is a blessing I cannot take for granted.
I also know that getting to sit and listen to Olivia describe her future is a blessing. The very fact that she speaks to us, in full sentences and even paragraphs defies all that doctors told us years ago. She runs, she does no-handed front somersaults. Seriously, she not only defies research into 5p- syndrome, she also defies gravity.
She asked me last weekend if she’d have big boobs when she’s a mom.
Yes, yes, she’s still semi-obsessed with boobs. She loves them. She no longer wants to touch mine all the time but she thinks about her own and wonders when they’re going to grow enough to warrant a daily bra.
I didn’t let the fact that doctors say she probably won’t be a mother stop me from answering her. “Yes, you’re boobs will probably get bigger when you are a mom.”
She grinned her toothy little kindergartener grin and announced that she was going to have two sets of twins, first a set of girls and then a set of boys. After I made the appropriately positive sounds at that idea, she changed her mind. She’s going to have two boys and a girl instead, with the girl being the older sister and the boys being the younger twins.
One of the first questions I asked our developmental pediatrician when she gave us O’s diagnosis was if she’d pass 5p- on to her kids. The doctor gave me one the only looks of pity this particular doctor ever gave me and said, “If she has children, she’ll have a fifty fifty chance of passing the syndrome on.”
I knew what she meant by both the words and the look. She meant that if Olivia is mentally capable of having children.
Olivia has a lot of dreams. She dreams of getting married, of having babies, of working with me in the same town so we can go to lunch together every day. Right now, she plans for her husband and children to just go ahead and live in the house in which we currently reside, with me and Tom possibly moving to the basement to make room for her and her family.
She’s seven years old. Chances are her dreams are going to grow and change and evolve over the years. And I’m going to help her make them come true. I am never, ever going to tell my daughter what she can’t do. I’m going to let her reach for those dreams and we’ll figure it all out together.
Monday, February 3, 2014
Nostalgia
I love sharing reruns (or DVDs) of television shows from my youth with my kids.
Alyssa, lucky girl that she is, has seen almost every episode of all seven seasons of Star Trek Voyager. She’s also seen every episode of every season of Bewitched as well as Wonder Woman.
I recently ordered the complete set of The Brady Bunch to watch with the girls.
Last weekend, I discovered a DVD of shows from The Carol Burnett Show. Alyssa and I sat down to watch them and we laughed until our stomachs hurt.
She asked later if I had any more to episodes so we could watch more together. I didn’t have any more episodes on DVD so instead we watched a bunch on Youtube. The elephant story as told by Tim Conway has us rolling in laughter.
I love that these things are surviving the test of time. If an eleven year old in 2014 can appreciate the humor of a Carol Burnett sketch, this world isn’t as far gone as one might think.
Alyssa, lucky girl that she is, has seen almost every episode of all seven seasons of Star Trek Voyager. She’s also seen every episode of every season of Bewitched as well as Wonder Woman.
I recently ordered the complete set of The Brady Bunch to watch with the girls.
Last weekend, I discovered a DVD of shows from The Carol Burnett Show. Alyssa and I sat down to watch them and we laughed until our stomachs hurt.
She asked later if I had any more to episodes so we could watch more together. I didn’t have any more episodes on DVD so instead we watched a bunch on Youtube. The elephant story as told by Tim Conway has us rolling in laughter.
I love that these things are surviving the test of time. If an eleven year old in 2014 can appreciate the humor of a Carol Burnett sketch, this world isn’t as far gone as one might think.
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