Sunday, January 02, 2011

The Sunday blues.

Ezra wailed, sniffling and gasping at bedtime tonight thinking about school tomorrow. I'm his Dad and we are alike, and I remember the uniquely damning dreadful weight of Monday that I've felt many times since, but never quite so bad as in fourth grade at the end of Christmas holiday. It was a good holiday. If I think too hard about how good it was, sledding with the kids, watching cartoons, seeing Tron, picking out and then watching them open their presents, playing Just Dance 2 on the Wii with the whole family, or even just driving to Target talking about random shit and listening to the Beastie Boys, I'm likely to wail and sniffle and gasp too.


dbs said...

Me too.

Anonymous said...

Because I've never matured emotionally past the fifth grade I still have a finger on the pulse of that intense feeling.
Christmas vacation used to seem like three months, not two weeks, making it especially difficult to return from.
It didn't help that angry nuns with rulers and no love in their hearts were waiting to drag me down to the office by my pigtails after the first infraction took place.