The Wheel Watcher

240px-WoF_title_2008Tonight, as Baby A was having his  bottle before bed, we watched “Wheel of Fortune.” It isn’t something that we normally do or normally watch, but the television was on and I didn’t bother to change the channel. The truth is:  I didn’t want to.

This game show reminds me of my grandma. I remember watching it with her every morning while she served me running scrambled eggs. (Proably the single reason I like my eggs cooked over well done.) I remember watching it with her as I laid on the couch sick under piles of blankets to help break my fever. And I remember it playing in the background when I had to call 911 when her nose wouldn’t stop bleeding. (She was a diabetic.)

I haven’t thought about her in a long time. She passed when I was in the first grade. But tonight, as I watched Pat Sajak and Vanna White, Baby A crawled into my lap, made himself comfortable and then watched the wheel. He clapped when the contestants did and laughed when they cheered. And while I enjoyed this unusual event (son sitting still in my lap and watching Wheel of Fortune) I thought about my grandma and how she had also enjoyed watching the wheel.

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The Wheel Watcher

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