It’s the end of one crazy week and the start of another. We’ve had almost every kind of moment – panic attacks, unrequited love, dancing for joy, teenage rebellion, violations of personal space, bursts of creativity, and early morning hugs before school that reset our relationship from whatever happened the day before. And today an exchange – scripted, yes, but genuine all the same – that is both typical and necessary following transgressions large and small:
Me: “You need to stop ______, please.”
Him (hands on hips, smirk on lips): “What are you going to do with me?!”
I am still amazed that, of all the Saturday morning cartoons from my childhood, Scooby Doo is the one that endured. How did that happen? Someone pointed out to me that the predicable story line is very appealing to kids on the Autism Spectrum, along with Scooby’s goofy, hyper-expressive non-verbal communication. That still doesn’t explain how it seems to be popular with everyone else (although I laugh every time I see the bumper sticker that says “What Would Scooby Doo?”) Anyway, until today the Scooby thing left me mostly exasperated. And then today, after weeks and weeks and weeks of drawing the Headless Horseman he switched gears today and turned to drawing Scooby Snacks. Happy Thanksgiving.