“Dad, I’ve got to show you this video,” said the child to her poor, worn-out father who had just returned from work. He collapsed in a heap upon the couch and was pounced upon immediately by the 10-year-old. She shoved an iPhone in his face and hit play.
“Another spring break video?” he questioned. “Don’t you realize I’m a working stiff and the sight of so much unbridled fun could cause your poor father’s heart to squeeze itself to death?”
“I’ll chance it,” she said, “because you’ve got to see THIS!”
“This” involved two kids twirling each other in a chair while a classic song from the 80s played in the background. Oh, and there was a pillow with a smiley face. (It had something to do with the plot.)
“Child,” this father said, “this is nothing more than two kids twirling each other in a chair.”
“I know,” she beamed. “Isn’t it great?”
Spring break as a kid. When even the mundane is meaningful. Monumental. Magniglorious. (Don’t look that up — it’s not a real word.)
When chair spinning is something they think can win a Nobel Prize. When they get to stay up so late that the next day is spent in a catatonic state … for parents! The kids still get up before sunrise. Children are plutonium-powered.
Sleepovers become the norm during Spring Break. Even during the week. But there is no sleep on a “sleepover.” Why aren’t they called “stayupovers?”
And the whole week, poor dad get texted pictures of trips to the beach and Dairy Queen Blizzards and how even the dog is having a good time. There is a photo where his own beast is flashing thumbs up while wearing sunglasses.
This dad doesn’t resent his child. No, he doesn’t hold a grudge. Because he remembers those days himself. In some ways, spring break was better than summer. Because it came out of nowhere — with no warning. He woke up one morning, started getting dressed and was told, “No school today. It’s spring break!” And fireworks went off in the bedroom. Candy fell from the ceiling. He ran outside naked screaming, “Hallelujah!” and other holy stuff.
All rules went out the window. Showering? Optional. He and his kid brother looked like coal miners by the end of the week. There was no bedtime. He just went and went and went until his poor, exhausted body literally ran out of power and he doubled-over in a cereal bowl.
Friends were over all the time. There were day trips. Night trips. Meals without vegetables around the edges. Meals with less nutritional value than wood chips. It was a dream.
Until it was time to go back to school.
And then it was his parents’ turn for joy. Like spinning in a chair with a smiley face pillow, all to the sounds of a classic 80s song.