Elevator horseplay has daughter going down
My middle daughter and I attempt to spend an afternoon or evening a week together, just the two of us. As she enters her teen years, I want her to remember fun times with me as much as she remembers me chastising her behavior, choice in attire or attitude. Not that I am trying to be her friend, because I know I must first be her parent, but to simply develop a trusting relationship that friendship will eventually spring from.
To that end, we grabbed dinner together last week. Knowing we needed to get home earlier than we often do to complete some yard tasks before the rain that was called for the next day, we decided to skip our leisurely walk through a mall or grocery store, and instead we stopped by my sister’s office for a quick visit.
The first time we ever stopped by her office, I raced my daughter back to the elevator to try to be the first to push the button. This has been a game we’ve played since she was little, and I used the elevator buttons to help teach her numbers. Therefore, every time we leave an office, we race to the elevator for the same purpose. (Note: The other offices in the building are closed for the day, and we are bothering no one with this game.)
Last week’s visit was no different. My daughter was striding purposefully toward the elevator, and I was a few steps behind.
As stealthily as possible, I attempted to overtake her in the last few yards.
At some point, I gave myself away, and she took off like a shot, pressing the button seconds before I reached the doors. So, like the responsible, mature adult that I am, I picked her up and carried her from in front of the doors so that when they opened, I could get on first.
However, as often happens when horseplay is involved, it didn’t go quite as planned. We tripped over each other’s feet, and she fell onto the floor. She lay there laughing, curled into a semi-fetal position, while I leaned over, laughing, asking if she was OK.
About that time, the elevator doors opened.
I couldn’t get her to stand up because she was laughing so hard.
Afraid I would miss the elevator, and seeing the opportunity to deepen the humor, I simply grabbed her under the armpits and began to drag her toward the doors. I nearly reached them when I heard a door open down the hall, and I looked up in time to see my sister and a colleague exit their office.
The look on my sister’s face was priceless. Her jaw dropped open, and her eyes were like dinner plates. She was shocked, plain and simple.
I put my most innocent expression on and said, “Going down?” as if nothing out of the ordinary was happening. They silently climbed aboard the elevator as well.
I don’t know how I got my daughter to her feet after that because she was laughing so hard, but I did. When the doors opened, we strolled out of the elevator toward our car and called back “goodbye” to my sister as though it was the most normal thing in the world.
Then, we laughed the entire way home.
Laura Zoeller can be reached at zoeller5@verizon.net.