You know those beach resort commercials, where the perfect family walks on the beach? It’s sunset, and the entire family inexplicably wears white. Seagulls fly, but do not poop. The parents hold hands, and the children run nearby, and then the dad picks up one of the children, and throws them in the air, and they laugh and laugh?
Or those IKEA commercials, where the whole family is piled onto the parents’ bed, and, instead of being annoyed, the parents seem delighted at all the mattress jumping, and then there is a shaggy yet at the same time well-groomed dog with them, and there is coffee in white porcelain mugs on the bedside table, which stays (!) on the bedside table for the duration of the entire commercial, and they laugh and laugh?
Every single family I know (including mine) has those commercial moments. Heck, they probably have multiple. These are the photos we try to capture.
But because life does not end at thirty seconds, we keep going, invariably, the coffee is spilled all over the white sheets, and the dog vomits on the rug. And mommy has a headache.
I’d get so much twisted pleasure and the feeling of shared humanity, if I could only keep watching one of those commercials past the sunset, and the white sheets. What happens then?
Have a perfect commercial moment in mind? What happened right after?
I can tell you that this morning Italian brought me coffee in bed, because Valentine’s. Cue commercial moment! The next thing he brought was the floor rag, because toddler.