Kids at the Movies: ALVIN!

There are so many great psychological stories I'd love to tell about litle kids.

And now that we have a few more of them in the family (grandchildren that I can subvert and hypnotize at will, little people who seem to enjoy the whole procedure, one that involves exhausting me to tears) it's easier to see the light side and to take the time to actually write the whole business down.

We got smarter phones a few months ago, and I get text messages a few times a day (if you have enough kids you can do this, it's a perk), some with pics.

At a wedding the other night I got this text message:

Took munchkin to the movies. A disaster.

Well, what did he expect? She's not even two.

Left the party early, came home to putter around and saw an email from him telling the whole story to the family. We do that, send the first degrees family email. Everyone uses the Reply All option so we can report on menus (it's important to know what people had for supper, all right?), review movies (I'll rarely go unless a film has been cleared by one of them), and talk about whether or not ANYONE saw Desperate. Here's what he wrote:

We just came back from a DGA (i.e. free) screening of Alvin and the Chipmunks. We figured it would be a good test run to see how the munchkin could handle a movie.

The film starts with the titular chipmunks high in a tree. They're singing and gathering nuts. Soon, a chainsaw is heard, the tree begins to shake, and then fall. At that point, a little girl SCREAMS at the top of her lungs, followed by "(my granddaughter's name) no want it!"

We stayed about five more minutes, and finally left when the munchkin told Rac she was scared. Ah well.

Rac added to the replies,

I believe the exact quote was "Chipmunk movie too scaaaaaarey."

I reminded everyone that when FD and I took our two oldest (one of whom is the munchkin's father) to a Sunday matinee as toddlers, a scream rang out in that theater, too, causing literal pandemonium.

THEY KILLED BAMBIE'S MOTHER!

I thought he'd never get over it.

Transgenerational, you would think, except it wasn't munchkin's dad who caught it. It was his twin brother, her uncle.

So the moral of the story. These flicks look innocuous, but that doesn't mean they are. Oh, that penguin movie's got some pretty scary scenes, too, btw.

therapydoc

Doe a Dear

After I put out all that serotonin to post a blog like yesterday's, I get all warm and fuzzy and just want to talk about FD.

Our Sundays are work days since we don't work on Saturdays, which means that the day as in, day off, doesn't begin until late afternoon. I get home around 3:00, starving, make us some sandwiches, check email, and take a nap, not necessarily in that order. FD is in there somewhere, usually the sandwich part.

We love national holidays because for sure nobody wants to see the doctor on a national holiday. NOBODY is sick when there's a barbeque, root beer, or a better offer. So we'll pack up a lunch on those delicious Mondays off, rack the bikes to the back of the car, wave at the neighbor's kids on our sidewalk, and drive off into the sun to find a state park or a paved-over railroad that the Illinois Bicycle Association has recommended.

These paved trails go on for 5-10 miles through farmlands and small towns. They're the yellow-brick-roads for grown-ups.

No, you're right, that's not enough exercise, but okay. At least we get away, and there's a culture to adapt to with this kind of trip. Mainly, you have to smile at bike riders coming at you from the opposite direction on the other side of the line. Better yet, say hello.

MEMORIAL DAY:

A blue bird-- royal blue, never seen the likes of it before.

Several very nice butterflies

One dead cicada that I bagged for my grandson, E, and sent to California in a plain #10 envelope. E told me last night that the cicada arrived, quite smashed by the postal service, probably from canceling the stamp. Pity.

And a doe. Or two does. Or is that, two doe. Two sightings of one doe. I don't know. What does a person do with two does? Here she is.


The ride was deceptively easy. For example, there were path markers to tell us how far we'd gone, but it seemed the mile markers were off. I would never have believed that the "mile" was really a "mile." Maybe it was 3/4 of a mile. But not a mile. Yet if that were the case, then why I crashed physically, like hardly ever before from a bike trip (it's like child-birth, you just don't remember the pain) when I finally got home that Monday evening is a mystery to me. But I did. Sleep, I mean. Much better than usual.

I always want to tell people with sleep problems, try moving your body a little. Move a few muscles. Quit asking us for drugs.

Are you waiting for the adventure? Kankakee State Park is not an adventure. It's a hilly park along the Kankakee River and Bambi lives there, along with a couple of birds, butterflies, and mostly dead cicadas. The kids who took our picture had never used a camera before, which is why all you get is Bambi.

We did the 20 miles in a couple of hours and left the park for home. FD really wanted ice cream, and lucky for us the liquor store in town had. . . Ice cream! Ben and Jerry's yet! Cherry Garcia, Chocolate Fudge Brownie in cute little one-serving containers with spoons attached to the covers. Only two hundred calories per serving.

My kind of town, Kankakee.

FD had the wheel and took the long way home, passed through Joliet.
Motto: If it's fun, it's in Downtown Joliet.

At some point I break into that Stevie Wonder song, I Believe if I Fall in Love with You it Will be Forever. Remember that song? Talking Book, I think. I can see FD thinking the notes out in his head. He'll play it later at night on the piano and he'll have the song just right, even though he's never heard Stevie sing it and it's not in my range.

A sign says Romeoville, and although I've had patients from Romeoville, I've never been to Romeoville.

Used cars, The Place for Ribs, Laser Wash, Dunkin' Donuts, Speedway, On the Rock Bar & Grill, road kill, Big Old Coon, Route 53, White Fence Farm, La Grou Trucking, Montana Charlie's Flea Market. We're still an hour from home.

I've got patients who work at La Grou, he says. And so do I, probably, I think. It strikes me as strange, however, that we're way, way far away from our offices in the city and people will drive that distance to see a doctor.

But that's what happens when you get attached to people, you'll drive a ways to see them. Or you'll drive that far to get away on a holiday.

Father's Day will be this Sunday. I'll miss my nap.

But lunch is made, and because my bro doesn't live in the city, there's a good chance that Bambi might be there!

Copyright 2007, therapydoc