Today was one of those days you never expect (at least I never did) as a parent.
Grand Master H is coming down with a cold. He is droopy and bored. He wanted to see something different. Yesterday we talked about The Wizard of Oz. I was very tentative about showing it to him. I didn’t want to scare him.
I talked it over with Mr. Smith. We decided that The Wizard of Oz is quite tame compared with some other things Grand Master H watches.
I am a person that loves movies. I can’t remember a time when they weren’t a central form of entertainment for me. I have been completely addicted to black and white, old movies since childhood. I have a major crush on Cary Grant. I remember the first time I saw Bringing Up Baby. It completely enchanted me. I was seven.
My father is partially to blame for this, but really I have seen far more movies than he would ever bother to watch. I will watch the cheesiest of musicals, the weepiest of weepers, silent films, you name it.
I want to pass this passion on to my children. I want them to watch the classics and know about film history. I don’t know why, but the thought of how it would feel to watch them discover these films that I love never occurred to me!
Today, Grand Master H watch The Wizard of Oz for the first time. I was so afraid it would scare him. I was just as afraid he wouldn’t love it the way I do. I didn’t want him to be jaded and think it is silly.
He was completely enamored. He sat and watched it straight through, peppering me with questions about each character, rewinding to watch the baby Munchkins hatching out of eggs again.
I stood at the sink and cried with joy, pretending to wash dishes.
Some days are just so bright and shiny, I have to look away or I will be blinded by the light.