Posts Tagged ‘Television’

Superhero Island

Mark almost never shuts up.  I don’t know how they handle this at school, but at home, after a while we have to ask him to leave the room in the interest of maintaining what little sanity we have left.

That’s okay, he wasn’t talking to us anyway.  Mark spends most of his time in imaginative play–it just has to happen out loud, apparently.

Given what I’m hearing, I’m becoming convinced that he’s a future TV producer.  Remember the game in which the Army pilot rescued people and committed other acts of derring-do, all with his collie in the co-pilot’s seat, with his own special dog-sized helmet?  That would run for 6 seasons on CBS.

His latest offering:  Superhero Island.  In which the Avengers, among others, end up on Survivor.  He has a set of action figures and provides them with conflict and snappy dialogue:

Wonder Woman:  “Wolverine, you didn’t do the dishes.  Again.”

Wolverine:  “Growl.”

Wonder Woman:  “Don’t growl at me.  I’m not doing the dishes just because I’m a girl.”

You KNOW you’d watch this.

Paul is in the House

So Paul got his wisdom teeth out yesterday.  Before the actual surgery the dental assistant brought out his post-op prescriptions.  One for an antibiotic, amoxicillin.    The other was for his pain med.  Vicodin.

We look at each other and bust up.

The nurse:  “What’s wrong?”

Us (snorting):  “Nothing.  Nerves.”

She leaves.

Us:  “House!”

I had guilt even as I was chortling.  It’s really not right to encourage your child to laugh at drug addiction.  Still.  Maybe it was just nerves, but it was awfully funny, wondering for a fleeting moment if taking House’s drugs would make my eldest brilliant, caustic, and antisocial for a bit.

No, wait.  He’s ALREADY like that.

Mark’s Hollywood Future

I suspect Mark has a budding career waiting for him in Hollywood…

Mark:  “Wouldn’t Monster Rangers be a cool show?”

Me:  “What?”

Mark:  “You know, like Power Rangers, but the heroes have the power of monsters.”

Me:  “NBC is desperate enough…”

Really, it’s a not a bad concept. He’d already pitched a show concept a few months ago, the one about the Army helicopter pilot whose dog rides in the helo with him, wearing his own helmet.  I am not going to think too hard about the fact that my kindergartener a) pulls fascinating concepts out of the air with ease and b) pitches them a whole lot better than I pitch book concepts.

Mark:  “If there’s a show, there will need to be books.”

Yup.  You heard right.  The six year old has crossover marketing down cold.  AND he’d throwing me a bone.  There’ll need to be books, Mom.  You can write them. You know, for my hit show.

More Career Planning

On the other hand, Mark’s career planning continues to follow the Hollywood screenplay path.

Mark:  “I am going to be a police man.  Or an Army guy.”  Inspiration strikes.  “I am going to have TWO jobs.  On Mondays and Wednesdays, I will go to my police work.  On Tuesdays and Thursdays, the Army.”

I notice he’s given himself Fridays off.  Nice.

Me:  “Actually, you can do something like that.”  I explain the National Guard.

Mark:  “Hmm.  I think I’ll be an Army guy FIRST.  Then a police officer later.”

Kate:  “I am going to be an astronaut.  Or a fighter pilot.”

Mark:  “Wait, I want to fly things too.  Are there helicopters in the Army?”

Me:  “Uncle Adam flies helicopters in the Army.  You can ask him about it.”

Mark:  “Hmm.”

We walk by the neighbors’ house.  The Irish setter is out in the yard and runs along the fence, desperately wanting to come race Mark.

Mark:  “I am going to have a dog when I grow up.”

Me:  “What are you going to do with the dog while you’re flying helicopters in the Army?”

He’s clearly torn.  He wants both.

Mark:  “I will get the dog a helmet.  And armor.  So he will be safe.  Then he will ride in the helicopter with me, behind the pilot’s seat.”

You KNOW you want to see that movie too.

The Cat in the Hat is a Dead Man

A bloodcurdling scream from the backseat…

Me (twisting to get a view of the injury):  “What?  What’s wrong?”

Mark:  “Nuffing.”

Me:  “What was that about?”

Mark:  “Echolocation.”

Turns out that The Cat in the Hat Knows a Lot about That on PBS discussed echolocation last week…

Repentance FAIL

There’s been a ban on TV in the house this week, after I noticed that when I came down to breakfast…PBS was on.  And when they got home from school, they went straight to the TV.

Time for an intervention, I decide.

But withdrawal can be a real pain.  Mark and Sam succumb to their addiction while I’m driving Kate to karate, and turn on PBS even though they know they’re not supposed to.  They’re very jumpy when I got home, and soon the jig is up–I’ve figured out what happened.  Friday’s movie night is henceforth canceled.

I think Sam learned his lesson.  Mark?  Not a bit.

At preschool this morning:

Mark:  “I am buying lunch today.”

Teacher:  “What would you like?  Pizza or hotdog?”

Mark:  “Hotdog.  We have pizza on movie night.”  Sidelong glance at me.  “But not tonight.  No movie night tonight.  Cause I turned on PBS.  I watched The Electric Company.  It was a new season!  It was awesome!”

Not really the response I was going for…

 

 

History Lesson

So the kids are watching that bastion of antique comedy, “Tom and Jerry.”

Sam:  “What is THAT?”

Paul:  “A record player.  That’s how they used to play music.  The needle would scratch the surface of the disk and play the music.”

Sam (clearly skeptical):  “Hmmph?!”

PBS

Oftentimes you can tell when Mark talks that he likes and watches a lot of Super Hero shows.  But every once in a while all those hours of PBS shine through too.

Kate:  “Guess what my job was at school today!”

Mark:  “I have a hypothesis.”

Thanks, Sid the Science Kid!

Alien Nation of Affection

So Mark had his Omnitrix on this morning when he walked into the kitchen.

Me:  “May I have a hug?”

Mark:  “Wait!  Which alien would give his mama the best hugs?”

He paces.  “Think, think, think!”

This is worth it just to see him do the thinking gesture, which involves stroking his non-existent beard.  Thanks, Daddy!

Mark:  “Heat-blast?”

Me:  “That’d be too hot, wouldn’t it?”

Mark:  “You’re right!”

More pacing.

Mark:  “Not Gray-matter.  Not Wild-mutt.  He walks around like this.”  He drops to all fours.  “He can’t hug.”  Significant glances at his hands on the ground, where they have to be for Wild-mutt appropriate posture.

More pacing.

“I got it!!”  Fierce forehead slap, twinged with disgust, like the answer should have been obvious all along.  “Four-Arms!”

The transition-to-Four-Arms gestures were pretty entertaining too.  Hey, it’s tough to mimic two extra arms sprouting from your torso.

But he was right.  Four-Arms gave GREAT hugs.

Alien Invasion

So I’m just sitting down this morning with a cup of tea and the newspaper, after having finally gotten the post-pancake kitchen chaos cleared away, when Mark comes running in, arms flailing.

“Run for your life!”

Me:  “What?”

Mark:  “They’re coming!!”

I ascertain that he’s in his alternative persona of Ben 10, who battles aliens bent upon invading Earth, enslaving and/or eliminating the natives (i.e, us), and turning the planet into their new home/vacation spa/energy source/space prison, etc.

Mark:  “I’m Heatblast!  We haf to fight dem!”

*beep* *beep* *boooooo*

That’d be the sounds of Ben’s Omnitrix timing out, the device he uses to enhance himself and fight the aliens.  (By turning into one of 10 aliens.  Hence Ben 10.)

Mark:  “OH NO!!!”

Me:  “Could we perhaps vacuum up these aliens?  I need to hit the living room anyway.”

Mark:  “Great idea!”  He runs to the closet for his own vacuum.  We fend off the alien menace with our fierce hoovering, Mark periodically pointing out a new onslaught (“We’ve got company!”)

Until the Omnitrix charges back up, and Graymatter can handle it on his own.

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