It’s Date Night With The Boy…

So I’ve had this hankering for quite some time now to see the movie We Bought a Zoo because of HEARTWARMING.  What isn’t to like about watching a flick where a single dad buys a house that comes with dangerous beasts like lions, tigers and bears, oh my?!  Plus, I haven’t had a bag of movie theater butter a bag of movie theater popcorn for entirely too long now, and I need to change that, because this is already January 5th, which means that my New Year’s Resolutions of EATING HEALTHIER and EXERCISING MORE and DOING LAUNDRY MORE OFTEN are already things of the past.

Dead.  Gone.  Buried.  Plum forgotten.

Five full days can do that to a resolution.

Of course the perfect excuse to see a kid movie, when your not really a kid any longer, is simply INVITE THE BOY AND A COUPLE OF HIS BUDDIES TO GO.  And then you can casually waltz into the theater and sigh and roll your eyes, and complain about HOW YOUR SON BEGGED TO HIT THE CINEMA TONIGHT, when it wasn’t really your son who was doing the begging at all.

But of course he jumped at the opportunity to go, because of STAYING UP LATE ON A SCHOOL NIGHT and CANDY, CANDY, CANDY!

(I may live to regret the moment when I said, “YES!  You can buy some candy at the concession stand!”  It’s almost bedtime, people, and sometimes a Nerds Rope and a Texas-sized Kit Kat bar this close to 8:00 is not the wisest parenting move.)

I’m also pretty certain that when I get home, the hour will be QUITE LATE (as in, post-9:00), and I won’t want to try to write a blog post THEN, and let’s be honest here.  I may have already thrown the healthy eating and the keeping up with the laundry better than I have been resolutions under the bus, but the one that I am clinging to with some great passion is GETTING SOME MORE SLEEP.

It’s because I’m elderly.  Elderly enough that I actually remember watching Ponch and John on CHiPs, before CHiPs was shown on late-night channels that host reruns of the ancient classics — classic TV shows that come from a time of ugly polyester bell bottom slacks and Hollie Hobbie shirts with enormously-puffy sleeves.

(For the record, I was going to marry John.)

(And then I didn’t, because in my 9-year-old mind I never fully grasped the AGE DIFFERENCE.)

(So I married Hubs.)

(Because he proposed and because he was CUTE!  CUTE!  CUTE!)

(But sometimes I regret the fact that I said YES to Hubs when he handed me a hunk of diamond attached to a ring, especially when times like this morning occur.)

(Because just this very morning, Hubs finished brushing his teeth before work, and he turned to me and said, “It’s really not hard being as cool as I am.  It’s just natural for me to be THIS DANG COOL, but no one else I know could handle the pressure that comes with it.  But I’m cooler than every guy I know.  I feel bad for their wives… that none of those girls get COOLNESS like you do, honey.”)

So anyway, all that to say that THIS, PEOPLE, is the only thing you’re going to get on the old blog tonight, because when I get home, I’ll have to have a prune juice cocktail, take my hearing aides out, pull the saggy, knee-high pantyhose socks off my feet, and crawl into my bed with fourteen afghans on it.

Because it will be after 9 PM and all.

And also?  I feel like the movie We Bought a Zoo will never be true, because the Jedi Family has their own version of Wild Kingdom right here at The Manor, because of Cats 1 and 2 and their penchant for hunting small children like they’re baby zebras.  Of course, it lacks a little something in the HEARTWARMING department, because parents of children who go down beneath the cats’ claws seldom say, “Isn’t that just a feel-good moment, right there?”

And the answer is yes.

For the record, we REALLY ARE embarrassed about the behavior of our felines, but short of a truck ride to the river with a burlap bag and a large rock, we’re stuck with them.

For better or for worse.

And thank goodness that the other “thing” I’m stuck with for better or for worse is SO STINKING COOL, he makes other men pale in comparison.

I feel badly for their wives.

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