It was around the end of November when I decided that we should start doing a weekly family night. I had the vision of us all gathered around watching Christmas shows from our childhood as my child gazed upon the screen in wonder as we all drank hot chocolate, ate popcorn and snuggled in during a cold evening.
I’m pretty sure that’s the fantasy that we all have when our children are young.
The reality: nobody wants the same snack, mom and dad opt for alcohol because by the time we’ve set up the couches with blankets and pillows because we’ve already had hot chocolate spilled everywhere. By the time the movie is 5 minutes in Jr. still hasn’t found a comfy spot and has had to go pee twice. Part way it’s announced “I dumped my popcorn.” Upon trying to snuggle with said child I’ve gotten the back of his head cracking into my forehead, I’ve been elbowed and kneed so much that I no longer want him in close proximity anymore and send him back to his couch.
I start to wonder why I bother and if my son is even enjoying this, that’s when the laughter comes. When we’re watching Home Alone and he shouts that this is the best movie ever, that watching Finding Dory at home was better than going to the theater, and that the next night he’s asking to do it all over again.
Maybe in time we’ll have that picturesque family night that I so dream of but who am I kidding thinking having a kid was going to mean that anything we were going to do was going to be peaceful?