My husband has one major flaw. Okay, two, but today I will only speak of one. He is not a big movie guy. I on the other hand, could make a life out of watching movies. Appreciating a classic John Wayne Western, being able to quote every line from Animal House and knowing when The Pink Panther is about to get caught are definitely things on my husband’s radar, but he has to be in a movie watching mood. Me? Day or night, name the place and I am up for watching a movie. So one gift in my life is giving birth to children who love movies. At the ages of seven and four my kids barely know about Sponge Bob and Superheroes but they can sing the farewell song from the party scene of The Sound of Music and the theme song from The Music Man. My daughter wipes my tears when we watch The Princess Bride. Buttercup and Westley kill me every time they reunite. My son and I get up and dance in the last scene of Mary Poppins, pretending to fly our own kites. These shared moments remind me that motherhood doesn’t always suck. Joy is found under the blanket, during the last scene, sitting in between my two cuties.
This past Saturday morning who would have known our movie pick could have left me so teary eyed? Yes, I am a sucker for musicals. Yes, I cry during Coke commercials. Yes, just a few bars of a song can produce a bucket full of tears but I didn’t see it coming this time around. There we were, the three of us snuggled under a blanket watching High School Musical 3. I looked over at my daughter, the one who rarely cries, and she too was red eyed and snotty.