Just in case you were wondering how things are going over here, they’re pretty good. Insanely busy. As in, not getting enough sleep not getting my reading done preparing for the class I teach just in time to teach it and Cy still coming first when I’m home and he’s awake so as not to screw him up later in life super busy.
In that vein, I thought I’d share how I traumatized him last week.
Example Number One:
I decided to mess with a good thing, and deviate from the fact that he rarely watches anything except for Sesame Street, the Fresh Beat Band, and Finnias and Ferb and Cars. I got this classic from the library, remembering it fondly from my younger days. About half an hour in I realized that this is possibly one of the most disturbing movies of all time. A family of Russian mice gets separated on the boat over to America, leaving their son alone to find out that there are, indeed, cats in America. Cy just kept asking, “Ok? Ok?” And actually, no, Fivel wasn’t ok. He was separated from his family in a new country. And it was kind of creepy and sad.
I then switched to our other library find:
Elmo visits the firehouse. Which should actually be called, “Elmo is in a restaurant that catches on fire, kind of, and it scares the shitake out of him, leaving him a shakey, nervous little puppet for most of the movie.”
Highlight: Seeing him slide down the fire pole. ‘Cause what two year old should miss out on the inspiration to throw himself down the sliding pole at the park? Because it looked so easy? Because Elmo can do it?
Yeah.
Better luck next time.
Or, back to Cars and Nemo.
