I was thinking about this the other day while scrolling through my phone on a Saturday morning, realizing I'd been working for two hours without even noticing. Growing up, my weekends looked nothing like this. There were unspoken rules, traditions that just happened without anyone scheduling them into a calendar app. These weren't grand gestures or expensive activities. They were simple rituals that, looking back now, built something most of us are desperately trying to recreate through therapy apps and self-help books: genuine connection.
I couldn't draw much else with the mouse, nothing more complicated than a lopsided house and a tree, so I would ask him, knowing full well he wasn't the artist in the family, to draw something for me; that day I asked for a dog. He tried his best, but what came up on the canvas was a misshapen thing - a kind of pig-dog hybrid that was so bad it had us laughing for a good while.