I’ve come to learn over the past five and a half years (really more like about the past three and a half, since my son became a vocabulary whore) since my son came into this world, that both of my children have my warped sense of humor. Because I’m procrastinating on the yard-work this morning, I asked them what movie they wanted to watch.
They go over to the shelf and go straight for it. Their favorite movie. They consult with each other for a moment. Or more like a few seconds.
My son points to one and asks, “this one?”
My daughter (pushing three) says, “yeah!” and grabs it off the shelf and brings it to me to put in the player.
“What did you find?” I ask.
“Wobbin Hood Tights, Mama,” she informs me, showing me the case. Robin Hood: Men in Tights. Because of the two goofballs I gave birth to, my husband, his grandfather, and my own doing, I’ve probably seen the movie more times than I can count. Mostly, it gets put on as background noise for me, and as something I know my kids will sit through. It’s one of the few movies I can put in with faith, knowing they’ll be mostly quiet through it. There are precious few of these. Anything new, they’ll sit through without complaint. We took them to see Home a few weeks ago, and both sat, riveted. Croods? They might sit through that. Monsters vs Aliens? She might, but him not so much.
But if I put in Mel Brooks, it’s pretty much guaranteed that they’ll sit through it. More with Men in Tights than with Spaceballs.
But they both sing along (or try to anyway) to the opening credits tune. My daughter will repeat some of the lines, my son can quote bits here and there too. One of these days, I’m going to have to go through and count the references to modern-day-compared-to-Robin-Hood’s-time society. Silly things like wearing Air Jordans and sunglasses. The “this is a movie-set” references. Abe Lincoln. The National Guard. Home Alone. The list goes on. And the fact that he has no qualms about picking on his own movies within his movies – “Why not? It worked in Blazing Saddles.”
But that’s my kids for ya. A little warped, a lot cute, mostly goofy, almost always loud.