Saturdays

When I was a little girl, our family had a tradition. Every Saturday, one of my parents would take one of us kids for a special one-on-one time. It would rotate which parent and which child would spend a day together while the rest remained at home. It ensured each parent could spend some quality time with all their children. It made us feel like we were special and chosen.

Breakfast was always the same. Flapjacks and sausage patties at McDonald's. Too sweet syrup poured over ready made food and accompanied by the sounds of dozens of screaming children and their over-tired parents. It was back in the day when the McDonald's by our house had a second floor and a child's area rife with places to hurt oneself.

Days with Mom were spent doing whatever the chosen child picked. Options were things such as the museum, the park or roaming the craft aisles at Woolco. I can't remember the conversations, but I always imagine they were flowing and constant and intense. They were probably to do with school, friends or how annoying my little siblings were (are... were... are...).

Days with Dad were spent going to farm shows, auctions and wandering the aisles at Revelstoke. Spending time with Dad was always a novelty. He worked a lot in those days. I remember him going to work at 7am, coming home for lunch, returning home for supper and family devotions and heading back to work at 7pm until past our bedtimes. I'm not sure if this is accurate or the distorted memories of an 8 year old.

I'm not sure when these special outings stopped. Maybe we just got too old to appreciate them or too busy to fit them in. Whatever it was, I miss them.