My decision to educate the kids with classic movies has not gone well to date.
“You are banned from picking movies for the kids,” Tracey told me before bed last night. “You suck at it.”
It was hard to argue, since at about 3am this morning we had 80% of the kids in the house standing around our bed whining or, worse, screaming.
I opened my eyes and was blinded with what looked like a lightsaber, but was in fact the top of a fairy tree house which I will from this day forward absolutely refuse to put batteries in, ever.
“Up you get,” said Tracey. “This is your fault.”
“How do you figure?” I wanted to know as I pulled the doona up to shield my eyes.
She decided to show me.
“What’s up, sweetie,” she asked our little Sith lord.
“I’m scared there’s ghosts!” answered Darth Petrified, previously known as Miss8.
“So am I,” said Darth Shit-Scared, followed quickly by Darth Whimpy and Darth Arrrgh – Miss6, Master10 and Miss3 respectively.
And while we live in a haunted house, I don’t think this is why they were so freaked out. Especially as we’ve gone to great lengths to make sure they don’t know about that.
The previous evening, after watching a less-than-well-received Mary Poppins, I put on what I hoped would be a fun comedy – Ghostbusters. Mainly, I wanted Master10 to know why he got a Lego hearse for a Christmas present.
And then I left the room. I had chores.
An hour later I was confronted by six members of my family, the scariest, if less vocal but more threatening, of which was my wife.
“What do you think you’re doing?” she asked me. The words floated up from a chorus of moans, cries and screams. “Couldn’t you find The Shining or Saw at Blockbuster?”
“They’ll be fine,” I said, all evidence to the contrary. “It’s a comedy.”
And Ghostbusters is. Although all humour left my body at 3-bloody-a-bloody-m when I had to walk the kids back to their beds and pat their backs until they fell asleep.
In a possibly related matter, tonight we watched Frozen Eggs on Youtube. Tracey made me sit with them. Not even a toilet break. I assume it was a form of penance, but I wasn’t brave enough to ask.
That said, there are now things I can’t unsee. Youtube is a class action waiting to happen.
I’m a little scared to go to bed tonight because I strongly suspect I’ll be the one awake and screaming at three tomorrow morning.
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“Raising a family on little more than laughs.”