Saturday morning cartoons and cheerios. Nothing gets better than that. Ever since I was just a smidgen of what I am now, I’ve been a religious Saturday morning cartoon watcher. It’s as much a part of me as my ridiculously loud laugh or my love of shoes. I have been known to set my alarm for 8:15 to watch Tom and Jerry, or to drive to the store at 7:00 to get some Cheerio’s to complete the ensemble. Throw my dad into the mix, and we’re a team. We’re an unstoppable, cartoon-watching machine.
Every Saturday, no matter what, my dad and I will sit down, eat our cheerios and watch cartoons. Its what we do. Never the news or Sports Center, always Captain Planet or Johnny Bravo. We love it. Its our time to just be us and relax. No work, phone calls or hassles, just pure animated joy. It’s also the only time in the week we get to spend some serious time together. With me at school or with my boyfriend and friends and with dad at work, we don’t get to spend enough father-daughter time together. Saturday mornings are our time.
A few weeks ago my joyous eighteen-year running Saturday morning tradition was disrupted. I had to go on a college visit…at 8:00 in the morning. My chance for my 2-hour vacation of cartoon watching was crushed into oblivion. It was terrible. I spent the whole next week angry for missing my cartoons, but more angry for missing that special time with my dad. He’s my favorite person to be around. He’s funny and laid back, and I love him to death. I didn’t think that such a small thing would hurt me so bad, but it did. Since then, we haven’t missed a Saturday and Johnny Bravo is glad to have us back.
Saturday mornings are my favorite time of the week. My cartoon time lets me know that I’m always going to be my daddy’s little girl, no matter how old I think I am. Also, it makes me glad to know that when he’s gone, I’ll have Saturday morning cartoons and cheerios with my kids, and he’ll be proud. This I believe.
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