It’s Saturday morning! I know you already know what day of the week it is, at least most of you do, but that’s not what I’m talking about. It’s the made up image of Saturday morning, that a lot of us who grew up in America adopted as the ideal for Saturday morning that I’m referring to.
You know what I mean. Saturday is the day you get to sleep in, watch cartoons, and eat pancakes that someone else makes. It’s sort of an accepted, institutionalized form of denial. It works really well but is rarely pulled off in the grown-up world. So that’s why I’m excited when I say it’s Saturday. I actually pulled it off!
I’m lying in bed next to the syrup stained plate as I write! My husband actually made pancakes and coffee! Yum!! If only the Bugs Bunny Road Runner Hour were on…life would be perfect.
I’m savoring the moments of denial because any minute my kids will wake up and I will be reminded that I have no clue how to be a grown up, I’ll have to get dressed, fling myself into a wheelchair, try and find all the places that I stacked unpaid bills, get the laundry started and finish editing my book before Tuesday’s deadline.
By then my poor husband will be in real need of denial time. Maybe he should go watch Speed Racer. That was his favorite Staurday morning cartoon.