Madelyn is on a binge. We borrowed How to Train Your Dragon (DVD) from the library and she has watched it daily. Yesterday, she watched it three times.
I started to nag her about getting off the TV and stopped myself. Who of us has never binged? It's not great for a body, but a warning about over-doing it doesn't work that well. It's something you have to experience. I did playfully tease her about looking pale when she emerged from the basement.
What is the appeal of this movie? It's cute, certainly. When I ask her "What's your favorite part?" she replies: "All of it." She likes the accents. The animated characters are supposed to be Vikings and have Scottish accents. I, too, am a pushover for British Isles accents: Irish,Scottish, British. Can't blame her there. Half of Ralph Fiennes good looks come from how he speaks.
She loves how the main dragon is more like a cat in appearance and behavior than like a reptile. "Mom, that's a May-May look," she says of the dragon's pouncing stance, referring to our outside cat, May. She's quoting lines out of context as she skips around the house, doing them over and over to get the cadence right.
It reminds me of when my sister and I hypnotized ourselves with TV after school (lots of Disney channel and Scooby Doo) and on weekends. We repeatedly watched our Dad's movies because it was something to do. It created a language between us; it set a tone for our childhoods. It wasn't a great way to spend an afternoon, but I turned out to be semi-literate after all. My sister is a gadget hound, and I think all that movie watching was the beginning of her love for technology. If the VCR or disc player didn't work, we called Becca.
The urge to nag Madelyn loosens. This is our holiday, after all. Binge away.
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