Friday, December 17, 2010

Ho Ho Ho

I witnessed the worst movie ever made last night.  It was so painful, I started asking around for oxycontin.  It was even worse than Soccer Dog.  Seriously.  Huck wouldn't believe me.  But it's true.

Coyote's school hosted movie night.  Kids in PJ's.  Big screen.  Popcorn and icecream 25cents each.  Sleeping bags.  And Huck took Blue to choir practice as they are both singing in the pageant.  And that left me.  I am frightened by large groups of children, especially excited ones.  But my lil' Coyote was excited and what could I do?  The movie was The Search for Santa Paws and is not really worth a full review.  But it did include Santa, magic crystals, swirling magic sparkles, a talking stuffed dog who comes to life, dies and gets resurrected (no, it's not a cartoon), an orphanage out-fitted by Pottery Barn, orphans by Mini Boden, a plunger microphone, and a workshop full of Down Syndrome midgets and short Asian women.  I treated my self to ice cream.  Rolled off my chair (it's was just a cushion on the floor so no one was hurt) laughing when Santa's tear brings his dog to life and Mrs. Claus hammers us over the head with: "You see, Santa, your love brought life back to Paws," because Santa is stoooopid and couldn't interpret that himself.  And I was horrified to see myself crying when Santa was on his crystal induced death bed.  I NEVER cry at movies, not even terribly made, badly acted, horrifically written wastes of resources.  The only movie before this that made me cry since Anne of Green Grables when Matthew dies,was La Vie en Rose, during which I bawled from opening to credit roll and not because it was bad but because it was sad.  I pray to god my tears had something to do with PMS or the moon or all this darkness or some subliminal over-reach of Hollywood music or the whole hopeless mess of a movie.  Because it really didn't have anything to do with me.

I see this movie as a kid version of Rocky Horror Picture Show some day.  The kids will toss glitter at all the right moments, throw soft icecream at the cave crystal, Hoho's at Santa, and sing with the orphans into their own plungers from home.  It has real possibilities for kid campiness.  But I can't bring myself to say anything to Coyote who thought it was a pretty good movie.

So, in case you hadn't heard, Coyote and Blue were really naughty AND Huck was off cleaning up an oil spill this week and I got all exasperated and wit's-endy and grasping-at-strawsy and bluffed, "I see Santa's just going to fly right over this house without stopping this Christmas!! Bah Humbug AND Harumph!"
Coyote says, "No.  Santa doesn't care how we behave."
WHAT?!?!?!  WHAT??!?!?!
Coyote:  "I was pretty bad last year and he still filled my stocking full."
And thus a major conundrum was created.  The entitlement chafes.  The not-even-trying-to-be-good chaps.  But could I really drop a lump of coal in a six year olds stocking?  Won't this Christmas then feature prominently in the therapy sessions?  Won't I?  But under what circumstances wouldn't I feature prominently in therapy?  I'm the mother.  No matter what I do, I'll always be a topic of psychological plunging.
And has he really been that bad?  Worse than his sister?  Other than first grade detention last month (well earned and a topic for a post of it's own), wantonly peeing his pants, hiding when it's time to catch the bus, waking up at midnight to play with his toys, and begging incessantly for video games and candy, what's so bad?  Other than the fact that he seems headed to either be a spy, a ninja or a drug dealer, he's a good kid.  And he upgraded his opinion to Santa only caring for the three days before Christmas.

But Blue's all on board with the coal.  I took her along Christmas shopping, because she's home all day and I had to.  And she kept trying to cheapen Coyote's gift.  "That's too expensive."  "You can't get him two things."  "He doesn't deserve two things."  "You can't get him that, I want that."  "Well, if I get it for him, then I'm not giving him the thing I'm making, because he just can't get two gifts."  "No, I think you've gotten him enough stuff for his stocking."  "If you buy him that, you have to get one for me too."  Okay.  Fine.  I'll just head out late some night next week WITHOUT his sister.  And then maybe they'll both get coal.  Hahahahaha.

1 comment:

  1. Ah, this is the best thing I've read all morning.

    And I'm very familiar with the older sister logic at play here :)



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