Wes and I have been watching Friday Night Lights (the show) lately. To be honest, I was dragged kicking and screaming to it. Can you blame me? It’s a show about a high school football-obsessed small town in Texas. The premise alone makes me want to roll my eyes.
Then, it won me over. Bit by bit, the characters wriggled into my brain and now I’m really enjoying myself.
One fly in the ointment though: I am now terrified of the inevitable teenage daughter years.
Oh my gosh. OH MY GOSH. The sass, the rolled eyes, the defiance. Just thinking about it makes me want to wrap myself in a soft blanket and hide from my own child.
For now, though, she’s sweet and cuddly and smells like baby, so I’ll dwell in intentional denial and pretend she’ll never be mean to me when she grows up.
While we’re at it, I’ll pretend Aidan will never date a girl who doesn’t like me, I won’t ever get wrinkles, and someone will announce a new diet any day now that’ll allow me to lose vast sums of weight subsisting on chocolate and wine alone.
Mmmmmm, denial tastes goooooood.