I’ve been watching Full House since I was in the womb. No, really. In the year of 1994, my mom was pregnant and a strict follower of the show. Pretty certain my theme song at birth began with, “Whatever happened to predictability…” I know, that was predictable, to be fair.
Both my parents have instilled this love for Full House in me. That is the reason why I didn’t watch Gilmore Girls until this year — really thought there was nothing past Kimmy Gibbler stories and Comet the Dog and, oh, now I’m getting emotional. (Fuller House cannot come sooner)
The lessons of Full House are also deeply resonant with my father, who talks about them as though he was Danny Tanner himself in a past life. I figured I’d frame the explanation then of my parents in Full House terms as related to me (think Michelle, D.J., and Stephanie combined as little me in the Pandya household):
- Always eat at the table. It is a gathering place, and no cookies, Michelle.
- If all your friends got second piercings, then Stephanie you should know that you need better friends because you’re not getting a second piercing.
- You can always talk to Dad. He looks as harmless as Bob Saget, for the record.
- Extended family = family. There really is no difference, so why say extended?
- No, we’re not getting a Comet. We’re getting a Coco, she is a bird.
It might not be San Francisco in the ’90s, but it’s all the people of Full House brought to one ranch-style Florida home. And it’s always a laugh.