Hit Home.

I'm not a big fan of commercials.  I used to love them.  Jingles that would stick in your head for years (I'm stuck on Bandaid, 'cause Bandaids stuck on me!), a mental wishlist of things I would like when I grew up.  Then the boys were born.  The harmless jingles turned into "I want that!" or "Can we go get that?" and I grew tired of commercials quickly.

Today, we don't even watch them.  I have TIVO to thank for that.  I don't read ad's in magazines, I turn down the radio when a sponsor or company interrupts my music.  Jeff is the same way.  The boys have been slowing turned to the good side, now they only watch the Superbowl ads.  So when an ad catches my eye, it must be good.

Disclaimer - I'm about to sound like my mother.

This is the ad that spoke to me today.  It described my childhood, Jeff's childhood and the early years of everyone I grew up with.  We rode bikes for hours, built forts in the yard, caught fireflies in jars and swam in the lake until our fingers and toes looked like raisins.  The bell rang to let you know when meals were served and you must come home.  Until then, we were cast outside, left to find worms, dig holes, make mud pies or skip stones.

The boys started off that way.  They played cowboys and indians, swung wiffle ball bats (sometimes at each other!), rode bikes and got dirty.  The older they got and the more technology developed, the more they gravitated inside.  Today, unless they're on the baseball field, they'd much prefer to be connected to the outside world from the comfort of their rooms.

One day, I hope they remember how much fun it is to play in the mud, blow bubbles and stick your toes in the water.  I hope their children get to sled down hills of snow, build sandcastles and look for bugs.  I hope one day they'll give up their PlayStation to build a play station....in a tree in the backyard.