As part of our program this year, we are reading books that have movies adapted from them. (Ahem. Doesn’t that sound nice–“program”? Makes me sound much more organized than I actually am. Yes, let’s go with that–program.) We are reading and then watching.
I found out that Emma Watson (of Harry Potter fame) stars in a movie called “Ballet Shoes”(2008) that is based on a book with the same title by Noel Streatfeild (originally published in 1937). I just knew this would be a winner with our Princess because she is a ballerina and she loves Hermione. Win win.
She was asking me to recommend something for her to read the other day (she has finally finished the whole Harry Potter series–huge victory y’all, she wasn’t reading until after she turned seven and now she is not quite ten–thankful, so thankful). I asked her if she’d read “Ballet Shoes” yet.
“Well, no. See, I have to get my mind over that word first.”
Word? I was not aware of a word. I mean, we’re talking 1937 here, right? What word could it be?
So I asked.
“Orphans. It makes me sad. I just need to wait a couple of days.”
I noticed her reading it today. Sometimes she’s like that. Just needs a couple of days to process things in her mind and heart. I spent much of the time reading aloud “Benjamin West and His Cat Grimalkin” trying to remember to substitute another word for “Indians.” It brought troubling images to her mind for some reason. Now, no problem.
I don’t even know. I choose not to question it. It kind of makes life easier.
Yesterday a friend shared the video of the little boy who was not happy about his Mama announcing he was going to be a big brother. Again. He gives his Mama a talking to, and yes, I giggled when he used the big word. You can watch it here if you like.
After watching it, I thought about the videos that people have been sharing of a little guy called “Kid President.” I decided to check one out before getting back to the dishes and what not. Lots and lots of what nots.
As I watched the one he did for Mothers (“don’t name your kid Phone,”), I was enchanted. My littles came up and watched too. We all were giggling by the time it ended. As I looked around at all the Whatnots that had yet to be done in my house, I may or may not have coached my children to explain it all by saying, “My Mama’s got stuff to do.” Ahem. Yes. Yes she does. And dishes and laundry and dusting are way down on that list. *sigh*
They begged to watch another one, so we did. “20 Things We Should Say More Often.”
Y’all. He is adorable. And the truth he speaks all while making us laugh.
I could cry.
But I’m sort of mixed up like that.
My two were laughing so hard by the time it was over. And it wasn’t the funny sound one. It was #14.
“I’ve got barbecue sauce on my shirt too.”
Look at the sauce on your own shirt before you go pointing at the sauce on someone else’s.
But last night as I was thinking back over what Kid President was saying, I thought about what grace-filled words those are.
Yeah, you might have some on your shirt, but looka here. You aren’t alone. Don’t be embarrassed. I have barbecue sauce (or spaghetti or salsa or chili or fruit smoothie *sigh*) on my shirt too.
Can I tell you how much I love this? How many times have I walked in somewhere only to discover barbecue sauce somewhere on my shirt (literally or figuratively–doesn’t matter which) and felt so out of place? What would it have been like for someone to walk up, whisper and giggle, “It’s okay. I’ve got barbecue sauce on my shirt too.”
I would not mind one bit if a shirt that says this showed up in my drawer. Preferably in white so I can wear it often and stain it well. That’s kind of my thing, you know. Staining shirts. I’m why Tide Stainstick was invented.
After the laughter settled a bit, I told my crew we could watch more later–we had times tables and spelling words and China to explore.
Cooter was still laughing his head off, saying, “He said, ‘Put barbecue sauce on your shirt…..'” as he rolled off in another fit of laughter. Yeah, he doesn’t get it. It’s okay. He’s still really cute.
Princess took a deep breath from her laughing, and sighed. “Mama, if he is an orphan, can we please adopt him?”
I explained that to my knowledge he’s not and so, that would be a no.
But I get it. Who wouldn’t want someone so full of joy and laughter and honest insight in their family?
No one, that’s who.
Tonight I’m thankful for a world where little boys can lead us on the right paths of thinking and caring and loving on folks. I give thanks for the laughter and joy of my littles and for my girl who has been able not only to read but also to say “orphan”–who gets that we all need to be a part of taking care of others in this world.
Y’all go eat some barbecue, get messy, and love on folks. We ALL got stuff to do.
Love to all.