I've been thinking about that movie Knocked Up.
I first saw Knocked Up when I was barely pregnant. I was still wondering who was going to be my doctor, as my current doctor was also pregnant and would not be around when I was to be delivering the current blob of cells residing in my uterus. So I went to see Knocked Up with my friend Anita, as something fun to do, as I realized my propensity of being able to do fun things planned just an hour before was slipping, like the days of our lives, through the hourglass of time. Depressing, no? But that is how it was in my mind.
So, I went to see Knocked Up with Anita and it was funny, and it didn't make think about things like plot, or denouement, or if some demon was going to be coming though the door to eat someone's soul. It was just a good time. And then we saw our professor sitting two rows ahead with some other guy. We talked about throwing popcorn at his head to get his attention, but for some reason decided against it. At the end of the movie, we went over and said hi and met the friend, who happened to be a doctor. A doctor I was thinking about having as my doctor. For the blob of cells. I realized immidiately I could not have this person who I met socially at a movie about people getting knocked up be my doctor for the time I was knocked up. It simply couldn't happen.
The main reason I was thinking about Kocked Up recently was because of the scene where Paul Rudd is talking to Seth Rogan, while Paul's kids are playing. Paul is talking about how he wishes he was excited for anything as much as his kids were excited about bubbles. And, how their enjoyment just pointed our your inability to enjoy anything. And wow, isn't that true?
What do I (or you) like as much as my daughter likes bubbles? Or the swing? Or slides? Or counting to four (technically, she says 1, 2, 3, 8) and running to me to get a hug?
I mean, I like a lot of things. I like sitting at the table when everyone is either asleep or gone and reading a book. I like baking. I like seeing friends. I like it when it's windy enough for the leaves to move in trees. I like airplanes. I like coffee. But none of those things will get me running around and laughing like a hyena like anything Birdy likes.
Where did she learn to enjoy things like that? And when did we forget?