Last time we went to Disney was, like the previous two trips, over New Year's. Just the six of us then. Anyway, it was New Year's Day itself and we're in Epcot, and it's frickin' freezing, so I'm buying these four-fingered Mickey gloves cause we's suffering for some hand coverings.
Somewhere along the line we pick up this Disney rasta hat that's pretty popular. I think it's officially a Goofy hat for some reason (that queer movie with his kids?). Knit-style head-covering cap with over-the-ear-flaps with ties, but the draw is the neon rasta lengths that extend from the top. I can't remember who gets it, but we bring it home and I think to myself, nobody is ever going to wear that . . . so distinctly Jamaican get-up.
Flash forward three years (?) and we have two girls from Ethiopia, which has its own, deep, strange, worth-researching historical-cultural-all-sorts-of-things link to Jamaica.
And it turns out my now-youngest, Abebu, who lacks her older sister's long locks, simply loves this hat and wears it ALL THE TIME.
I come up tonight from the basement and I notice it in the hallway, telling me she got up to go to the bathroom because when I chased her to bed tonight, she was wearing it.
And it's so totally her in so many appropriate ways, that it just makes me laugh at the end of a shitty year that's just gotten a whole lot shittier lately.
So you remember to appreciate your kids. Stuff and situations and challenges, they come and go, but your family--done right--stays on. It is a primal connection, whether you're a plank-holder or just three months on the squad. Doesn't matter. You're in all the way.
And they bring you so many delights, that it makes everything else worthwhile--or just bearable.