Upon exiting the theater,
we all agree on those pivotal
moments, accentuated by
the 'ooohs' and 'aaahs,'
chatter, chasing down the aisle.
"Yes, Jared, we could tell you liked it."
The Nerdestary assembles.
Roster changing upon availability
and qualifying expertise
all variants of "Can someone watch the kid tonight?"
My mother swoops in to save the day,
and the operative is a success.
Now, we shall see if she can put him to sleep.
Two months old.
The longest we've been apart, together.
On the ride home
instead of discussion on how good the movie was
we consider the individual merits of when it may be appropriate
for inclusion in such outings.
You've one parental unit in which they're watching them at six
and another that strictly adheres to the PG-13 policy.
Comic books, waiting, bagged and boarded
in their own time capsule cryogenic chambers
to be unearthed not
before such and such a date. Reading
is an investment in our future.
We can rattle off a half dozen cartoons, followed up by the movie originals.
Netflix and DVDs make Saturday morning, a bowl of cereal whenever we please.
Dinosaurs, cars and trucks, animals.
These each have their worth,
this cannot be denied.
Yet to lose one from the grasp of nerd-dom?