Greg and I were offered tickets to see Capitol Steps last night at The Flynn. It was so good to laugh, at times with tears rolling down my cheeks. So often, it seems, I write about crying – usually tears of overwhelm and exhaustion and exasperation. But these were what Aviva calls “happy tears,” or maybe even lighter than those, simply tears of being tickled and cracked up. A little comic relief – such a great change of pace.
A few days ago, the girls and I were sitting on the couch with Aviva’s Superhero book she got a couple of birthdays ago, picking Superhero names for ourselves. Aviva, who used to be Captain Chocolate, became the new Captain Skunk. Pearl was without a doubt Super Monkey. I decided it was only natural for me to be The Flying Creemee.
This morning, I was telling Aviva about the show. “How come I couldn’t go with you?” she wanted to know. I explained that we had received just two tickets from one of the show’s sponsors. “But V – there was this one part that you would have really liked.”
“What was it?” she asked.
“It was this really fun game where one of the actors told a whole long story switching the letters of the words…”
“What do you mean?”
“For example, if I told a story that started like this: Tonce upon a whime, there were soo tisters named Paviva and Earl.”
Watching her face was so funny, as her brain tried to catch up with the sounds – just as ours had last night during the show. It was also a nice way to start the day, which turned into a marathon Sunday, filled with the usual ups-and-downs, from implosion to bliss and back again. Moments of family togetherness and ease punctuated by moments of me wondering how it is that families stay together at all, how marriages survive having kids, and how staying present is truly the only viable, life-affirming option when two-thirds of their school has one flu or another, when we still have to sit down to have our big money talk, when yes another foot of snow is in the works. We all know those tears.
Assuming your little huper-seroes are fast asleep (thankfully, Skaptain Cunk and Muper Sonkey are off-duty), please get the tappy hears rolling by listening to this. It’s mirth every winit.
And remember! Next time you catch me crying, don’t be concerned. Maybe it’s just me: the one, the only, The Crying Fleemee. Now, what’s your Huper Sero name?