Twenty-Twelve didn’t have too many moments that I’d want immortalized in stone, more like instances I’d prefer to be plopped in some quicksand. Statues seem to be a little permanent … you know like a tattoo on the face. Besides, I’m really not the statue kind of person. I’m more of a gallery of images kind of person, like a slideshow tribute they have at an award shows like the ESPYs or Oscars. I’d like to see my life in film … directed by Nora Ephron of course.
But a statue? That is a challenge. However, I’ve found it … the sculptor may need a lot of plaster …
Most of the time it’s hot, filled with long lines, hyper kids, and parents who need some sort of timeout during the long corn-fructose syrup filled day. But there are instances that are permanently embedded in your head. Moments you capture with your beat up Canon PowerShot — statue-worthy moments that once remembered make you smile, or crack up so hard that you cry.
Dune Raiders. It’s called Dune Raiders. A 30-foot blue slide that could probably be found in any amusement park, but we happen to discover it at LEGOLAND this year. Now there were many rides we ventured on that made us smile, even laugh. But this one had unstoppable giggles as my son zoomed down one of the 50-foot-long racing lanes and pass the pair of double-helix corkscrews in his worn-out potato sack. A first place finish, with me a close second — both of us laughing at the bottom, and me extending my hand out to my son in my most animated AHA!-Congratulations gesture. And him just cracking up. It felt better than chocolate.
It was one of those moments that everyone has in a lifetime with parents, friends, boyfriends, dudes, children, or pets — the kind where you want to bottle up the feeling and shelve it because you know that you’ll probably need it next week during one of your many quicksand days that usually involves family, defeat, drama, bills or rejection letters. It’s a feeling you want captured and embraced, so that it can take you back in time to be relieved again. It’s what I want to remember, but in truth it’s what I want him to remember. It’s how I want him to remember me.
I’d make a statue of that.
But the only change would be having my one-year old daughter sitting on my lap, laughing it up with us.
Yeah … that statue would be awesome in front of a bank or something.