One Thing

Today is our last day of Christmas Break. One more day of staying in our pjs until dinner time and then only getting dressed to stumble out the door for take-out. One more day of filling up the dishwasher by noon with everyone’s fourteen snack bowls and glasses of milk. One more day of purging closets while the kids “helped” for quarters and leftover Halloween Tootsie Rolls. One more day of no schedule, topped with free time, and swirled up with laziness.
The time off has been a much-needed luxury, and each of us has enjoyed hours doing the One Thing we love most. Our One Thing is the activity that consumes each of us. The One Thing we can do for hours and lose track of time. The One Thing we lose ourselves in until we forget to shower or eat or (in the cases of those in Kindergarten) stop to use the potty.
My One Thing is fiddling with text–unfortunately not as in writing the text. That would be Stephen King you’re thinking of. No, like graphic design. I’m getting ready to do a big giveaway for my book that’s coming out, and so I’m designing printed promotional stuff. Even though the stuff I design never looks as good as the hours I put into it, I can’t help but get OCD about fonts and line spacing and colors and borders. The whole process makes me giddy–until M looks over my shoulder and says, “What is that?”And then I realize I shouldn’t quit my day job because, well, who would take care of all these kids? But maybe one day these kids will be at the age they should take care of themselves, and then, if you need some letterhead designed, give me a call. (But by then I’m guessing no one is going to be using actual, printed letterhead.)
Concern for a future with no letterhead brings me to Nate’s One Thing: Temple Run. What generation is this that a two-year-old is better than me at running from zombies through deserted temples? And all while only using his index finger? I’ll tell you, it’s Generation Temple Run and my kid is obsessed. He’s even learned to give me a big hug in hopes that might make me turn over the iPad. And when that doesn’t work, he tries to sweet talk Catie into sharing her Kindle Fire.
 Sam and Elisabeth’s One Thing is playing Hon, which is what they call each other during their marathon games of house. HOURS they spend as their alter egos, Jon and Jessica (pictured above). They play-act these epic story lines about living in their (multi-room) RV where Jon trains for his show and Jessica takes care of their 17 babies. Every couple hours there’s a baby needing baptism, and the whole crew shchleps off to the kids’ bathroom so Jon can take a break from sword swallowing to dunk its head underwater. Then they drag me away from font selection to play the part of the daughter who wants to take the RV to Heaven to meet the princesses. (I’m impressed with their spiritual awareness on the subject of baptism, but I’m a little worried they’ve got John’s Revelation of Heaven confused with DisneyLand commercials.)
Catie’s One Thing is chatting with her Mommy. Have I mentioned that she’s reached the age that I’m her favorite person? She can spend HOURS talking with me about the kids in her class, my life as a girl growing up in the ’70s, One Direction and Justin Bieber. It’s very nice and sweet–and when she’s 14 and begging for more minutes on her iPhone to chat with her friends, I’m totally reminding her of this stage when she thought I was the funniest, most interesting person on the planet.
Besides, I don’t think she’ll really be able to chat on her iPhone with anyone. She’ll never be able to pry the iPhone from Nate’s white-knuckled game of Temple Run.
What’s your One Thing?