Eric and I went out last weekend. He got free Jazz tickets--you know the ones with all the frills, the dinner before, the drinks and nachos and popcorn during halftime, the great lower bowl seats. My favorite part is the nachos. I asked Eric beforehand and he said I could absolutely NOT bring along a book to read during the game. Fine. I was trying to be a good date, after all.
As I sat in the arena, I was bombarded with all the overstimulation I could handle--the bright lights and colors, the music and cheering drilling into my head, the smells of the food everywhere, even the heat of sitting so nearby many, many people.
I tried to pay attention to the game, but all I could think about was this Jazz game was the very reason why people don't seem content to sit in the stillness of nature anymore. It's all this overstimulization. We get it everywhere--TV, fast-food restaurants, stimulate, stimulate, stimulate. I wish there were some way to save my children from it. But it's too late already. Portia's been overstimulated by Barney--those dinosaurs are every bright color you could possibly think of (I don't know who turned that on for her). =)
I couldn't help but make my snarkey comments to Eric all through the game about the overstimulization. He put up with it. I guess he just expects this from me anymore. He probably wishes he had just let me bring the book.