How Gizmo is making us watch The Polar Express

My sister and her brood came to visit on my birthday. Even though we haven't bought each other presents in years, they showed up with one for me. It was something I had been talking about wanting to get for a few weeks. It was nothing expensive, just something I wanted to share with my babes, it left that much of an impression on me.

It was none other than this movie.

What were those three rules again?

My nephew (only 6 months younger than Butter), Butter and Banana had all been talking about wanting to watch horror movies. What better one to let them cut their teeth on than one of the one of the movies that made the Motion Picture Association of America revamp their rating system? So I got it in my head that I wanted... needed to get my hands on it, and show it to them. 

After all it had this guy in it... 

I want one!

... and this guy...

Back in the '80's when badass = evil 

The next day, when Pineapple went down for her nap, I put it in the DVD player, and curled up on the couch with Butter and Banana to watch. Now, it has been YEARS since I have actually seen this movie, so my memory was a little spotty when it came to it. What I do remember is, that when I saw it as a kid, it made me laugh in a few places, it made me jump in a few places, and I recall very vividly the kitchen scene. (Because honestly, could you forget the microwave?) But there is one scene I did forget about. (Go ahead and watch the 1:40 clip. I'll wait.)

(Unless you remember that scene exactly, you need to watch it. It's ok, I'll wait for you.)

That scene didn't set off alarm bells, in fact I didn't even give it a passing thought. I was more interested on the babes reactions. If a movie that influenced me as a kid would stack up to what they watch on a daily basis. They said they liked it, but neither have mentioned wanting to watch it again. I think it scared them a little more than they are willing to admit. No problem. We are still a few years off for scary stuff. 

Fast Foward a week, and the babes are talking about Santa, when my EIGHT year old little girl blind sides me with the blasphemy that rolls out of her dirty mouth tells her OLDER brother, "I can't believe that you are almost 10 years old and still believe in Santa. You are such a dweeb." (With an eye roll that made my eyes hurt.)

Wait? What?

I pull her aside later and asked her about it. She swore she was "just joking" and of course she "still believes". I played the old card of "Do you think that your dad and I could buy everything that Santa brings you?" She did the obligatory shake of the head "no". 

Then I saw it. 

That look that every child learns at some point in their life, the one that just makes you want to slap it right off of their precious little faces,  the one that reveals their internal thoughts of, "OMG. My {insert parent's name here} is so stupid." Banana had that look mastered at five, so she has had a lot of practice with it. Unfortunately, there was something so genuine about this one. So honest, so true... my heart shattered for the both of us.  I knew in that instant, she no longer believed.

I knew I was on borrowed time with the two older ones. Butter has a test for Santa this year. He is going to ask for something that The Chef and I always told him that Santa wouldn't bring him. He is going to put it in his letter and not tell The Chef and I what it is. (Baby monitors are such wonderful devices.)  Which of course under the tree would be that one thing he asked for. With that plan in mind, I figured we had one more year with Butter, and one, maybe two more with Banana.

I had no idea where she learned the truth. We are so careful, and I get on the ones who aren't. But what really confused me is that it's the beginning of September. I shrugged my shoulders and went about it, making a firm decision that The Polar Express would be on our "Not to Miss Christmas Movie/Specials" list. If I was lucky I could squeeze out one more Christmas with her.

Fast Forward a week and a half. I'm sitting down to watch one of the shows I recorded on the DVR. It's The Rotten Tomatoes Show. (For those of you that are not familiar with it, it is a movie review show shown on current.) Well, I record it at some off time, and instead of reviewing the most recent movies out in the theatre, it was a Top Five show. And on this show, they had a segment called, "The Top Five Kids Movies That Aren't Really Made For Kids" and what movie was mentioned?

First they talk about the kitchen scene, then they play the clip that I posted, and then they replay the line, "That's how I found out there wasn't a Santa." 

I felt my mouth hanging open as I smacked my palm against my forehead. 

We are most certainly watching The Polar Express this year. 

Another of My Affairs

I am an only child. 

That means there was more than one time in my childhood that I had to find something to occupy myself. This of course included finding something to do when my parents and I were waiting for food when we went out to eat. 

But being an only child, it didn't take much. All I needed was a pen or a pencil and a plain paper placemat. 

I didn't doodle exactly, oh no, it was certainly more personal than that... 

I wrote my name.  

Sometimes it was my full name, but more often than not, it was only the six letters that make up my first name. I would manipulate those letters, and turn them into something beautiful, something hard, something ugly, something soft. I would just write those six letters over and over again, and the only time that the style repeated itself was when I happened upon something that I liked. There were loops and curls, there were straight edges and corners...

... you get the idea.

I honestly believe all the time perfecting the one thing that was mine, it has now manifested into this affair.

Out of this short list, there is only one that I don't have installed... yet

I try to stay away from here and here and here. I could spend hours looking at all the pretties that others have made, wanting nothing in return. I have spent hours playing with... well... these little pieces of art. 

A well used font is the cherry on the top of a word sundae; the mundane becomes a little more tolerable, the special becomes just that much more. They can reinforce the declaration of love, or they can strengthen your message. 

Fonts are just awesome.