Kids come home more often, some don’t even leave, and so we spend more time together. Like talking about the little things of the day, or the morrow. Like listening to music (theirs) that I find a bit difficult to understand (yet hard to ignore). Like watching a film or two together.
Consider Zootopia. An excellent modern fable that I heartily recommend. This is one of those few movies that you watch, once, then you wish to see it again, to catch ‘that’ scene maybe, and then once more. The cute characters (even the wolves are sweet) of Zootopia pervade your present and your past.
First time, I told Don that he’s the fox, Nick Wilde. What a coincidence. He tried to tell me that I am the rabbit, Judy Hopps. But I stopped him. I knew who I was, from the very beginning.
Second time we watch Zootopia, one of my daughters says that she’s the bunny and her boyfriend the fox. See a pattern here? Telling her that she’s gotta be right, she agrees that so am I. Or was, for the ’80s, because – ya know – kids have already found a new nickname for their father. He is… Flash!
Yes, the sloth from the DMV, the pal of the fox. Flash!
So this is how the juniors see us. “No!,” say one, “just dad. He talks slowly, commences with introductions too long to follow. But, unlike Flash, you are still agitating.”
Too much maybe.
Uh huh. Good point! Think that slowing it down will add a few more benefits to my health.
I am considering to become Priscilla. Just for the kids. And my serenity.