The girls turned into absolute slack-jawed DVD hypnotized zombies during our recent 8-hour roadtrip to Florida. Since we returned late Saturday I’ve slowly weaned them from the movie and TV crack, in fact I was so mean as to forbid any TV Sunday except for Extreme Home Makeover that night, which Miss C loves (Seriously, Ty Pennington? She’s a groupie!) and zero TV on Monday and Tuesday. I caved on Wednesday because the hubby worked late. A mama has to do what a mama has to do and in moments of solo parenting I rely on a little Sponge Bob, ok a LOT of Sponge Bob, and a Big Gulp glass of wine.
One of the DVDs we packed for the trip was Madagascar II. I have to admit it’s a pretty cute kids’ flick, except for the annoying tendency for your child to chant “I Like to Move It, Move It,” at the most inappropriate times, which for us is pretty much any time we’re out in public and there’s no quick escape route, and shake their bottom like Beyonce. Miss A, especially, is obsessed with the word “booty” and that song just seems to bring out the booty shakin’ in all of us. And then there’s my own secret affinity for Marty the zebra’s phrase, “It’s crackalackin’!”
On Sunday we were getting ready to walk up to the park and Miss C bounded out of her room wearing one of her inventive outfits.
“You look really cute Miss C!” I told her.
“Mommy, I look HOT,” she corrected me.
What is she now, 16?
(Uh, OK. Uh, yeah. Uh, NO. Danger Will Robinson. Definitely not a phrase I want my 6-year-old latching on to.)
“Well I think you look cute. Where have you heard someone say they look hot? I’m not sure that’s something we should say. It doesn’t sound that nice.”
“It’s OK mommy, it’s from Madagascar!”
But of course.