Last night, we took a dangerous gamble. We gathered up our hungry young and took them to the movies. We've tried to take all 3 before, but it was a disaster and so we took a few years off. This one, we're counting as our first official family movie.
We caught a matinee of Toy Story 3. They were all extremely excited, since Toy Story has been R2's favorite since, like, birth, and we have always had a surplus of Buzz and Woodys around, as well as the occasional Jessie or Bullseye or you know, the little alien guys. There was only one other family in there, and they were of a similar excitable nature.
The movie was great, and the kids seemed to get it, even R2 was laughing at the right places, (and some of the wrong places). It's a little intense, though. Especially the climax- it is long and really suspenseful. I thought Toby would bail, but he was okay. Brynn was unaware of the crisis, smacking popcorn loudly and laughing and saying things like, "Lookit that silly bear!" about the villain and such.
Speaking of popcorn. Fact: I cannot eat a small amount of movie popcorn. I cannot watch a theater movie without popcorn. I always get extra butter, eat too much, and lay around like an oil-covered duckling afterwards. (Too soon?)
Anyway. My baby girl has shown her eating abilities before, especially when it comes to bacon. She has never turned down bacon. She has to be restrained from eating bacon out of the trash can, post-meal, and I feel her pain. All that to say, she went nuts on the popcorn.
We bought a small bag for $145.70 for all of us to share, and once she figured out she could hold the bag for everyone, she stayed in her seat and got her focus on. The whole 2 hours, she sat glued in her seat, wide eyes on the screen and tiny hands in the bag-to-mouth configuration. I had the brief parental thought, "Maybe she's eating too much popcorn..." but it was her first movie and I figured, what the heck.
When the lights came up, the bag was empty. An hour later, I put her in her playpen for bedtime, and all the popcorn came back to us. That's right. She chucked. There was some pretty major excitement among the younger set about the mess, and I cleaned it up amidst a lot of high pitched screaming. The MOG was leaning over the kitchen counter, face devoid of color as he tried valiantly to think of something he could do to help that did not involve cleaning up puke or pukers. (He's 3 days or so into a fast, and the ol' schnozz is on high alert)
So there you go. Brings back memories of the time my dad let me eat a 3 pound bag of Reeses' cups, just to see what would happen. I was 14, in his defense. He was sadistic, in my defense. We both deserved what happened.