The last few years my “word of the year” has been an effort to make myself more sure, more confident, less … um … less me. I think I’m marginally better at being brave, at speaking up, at acting in spite of fear and doubts, I’m still fundamentally the same.

So, this year, instead of trying to convince myself I’m something I’m not (Brave, Fearless), I decided to return to something I used to be.

Somewhere in the last few years, I’ve lost my whimsy.

Stud Muffin has always been the master of the unexpected fun. He could turn a boring drive into a game. Sometimes it was the usual road trip games, but often he added a twist. He would instigate water balloon fights while I hollered to keep my hair dry. He could sense when mutiny was near and deflect it with a detour, a sightseeing stop, or ice-cream.

Thanks to him, we have memories of freeze outs (driving in winter with the windows down. First one to beg for the heater on and window up lost), Taco Bell bags of food gifted by a stranger at a hotel pool, and pizza for dinner the night before vacation.

Not to say I was a complete downer. I planned those vacations, the beach trips, the camping excursions, the field trips. I drove to the beach, the museum, the aquarium. A lot of our family fun and memories wouldn’t have happened if not for my superb planning and organizational skills.

But I used to take more pleasure in the planning and the execution. It was my idea to drive into the hills to watch the meteor showers in August. My idea to go to a taping of The Price is Right and The Biggest Loser, I bought the tickets to the Raffi concert, the PBR, The Lion King.

We have a “neighbor” (in the country, we use that term loosely, since this one lives about three miles away) who makes an elaborate scene with lights on the small hillside next to their home every year. We’ve seen some dramatic scenes, including Yosemite’s Half Dome and an homage to Egypt, complete with Sphinx. One night last week it occurred to me that we hadn’t driven to see their display in a couple of years. It was a bit after eight o’clock. I opened my mouth to suggest we grab the car keys and make the five minute drive to see what they had this year.

Whimsy, right?

But … Stud Muffin already had on his slippers and flannel pants. The garage door was closed. We were snug. So I skipped it.

No whimsy.

And I regret it. So what if we were in slippers? Eight o’clock is not two am. A quick “late night” drive to see some beautiful lights could be just what we needed.

A few days later, on New Year’s Day, we saw a woman in a wheelchair with an American flag attached. She wore a Happy New Year hat and waved a streamer wand. She buzzed around in her electric chair, waving her streamers and wishing everyone a Happy New Year. She looked … odd. Even crazy. But fun! She was having a blast. Some people (you know who you are), rolled their eyes. But most smiled and waved and called out to her a Happy New Year greeting.

And I wished I had worn my hat with the lights, to sparkle some happiness back at her.

That’s whimsy.

This past weekend it rained. A lot. Stud Muffin took the grand-girls on a walk and they had a leaf race, sending a leaf of their choice racing down the gutter in the rainwater. Proving he still has whimsy.

Just what I want more of in 2017.