Giants be cool, man.
We frequently watch films in installments, to stretch out the cinematic bliss. This weekend:
1993's Cool Runnings.
The ebullient underdog sports tale falling into the sub-genre of "Jamaican Bobsled Teams Trying to Get Into the Olympics." Also, John Candy's last appearance. Loved that guy. On a jet, on a train, in a car, I will always enjoy his arena-size affability and humor.
One of my money moves as a remote control autocrat is to hit pause right at the height of a scene, such as right before we learn something super important, like if they're going to make the finals or not. My family loathes it, so it's also a good reminder that sometimes it's necessary to be the villain. Darth Vader is so much more interesting than Luke.
We'll watch ONE more scene!
I thundered.
Get it? Got it? Good! After that, it is BEDTIME. STRAIGHT TO BED. Clear? We clear?
Yes General Daddy Sir.
they said, straightfaced little angels in disguise.
The scene finished.
Fie, off to bed!
I shrieked.
But Daddy!
one said.
We didn't have a dance party like you said we would earlier this morning!
I shook my head. But, as Horton said, say what you mean and mean what you say, which is what I had said, and I try to obey my favourite Doctor. So I reluctantly headed over to put on They Might Be Giants' ode to slumber entitled "Bed Bed Bed," which is unbelievably catchy and is the sonic equivalent of a quadruple shot espresso before bed.
"The day is done
The sun is down
The curtains have been drawn
And darkness has descended over everything in town
The covers have been turned and I've got my pajamas on
I've had my fun
I've stretched and yawned and all is said and done
I'm going to bed
Bed bed bed bed bed"
A lovely song, particularly if you can imagine cows playing trumpets while loudly eating milkshakes with little bells on their hooves.
The song finished, sweat dripped; I ordered them to follow the lyrics and obey the song.
But Daddy!
one said.
Can we just listen to Bob Dylan?
No.
I said.
Go to bed.
Okay.
they said.
And tromped off, finally.
Daddy!
one said.
Can you turn the lamp on?
Okay.
I said.
Daddy!
from far off.
Can I have some water?
Sure.
I said.
And got it.
Daddy!
one yelled.
I have to go to the bathroom, can you meet me there?
Fine.
I said.
And waited until I realised he was pretending to sleep.
No!
I said.
You are not sleeping on the toilet tonight.
And headed to the living room to sit on the couch and relax for the first time in fourteen months.
Daddy!
I heard far off as my sitting down was paralyzed, then reversed.
Can I read one book?
No.
I said.
Go to bed.
Daddy?
I heard.
Can I read a stack of books in the morning?
Probably.
I yelled at the top of my lungs.
Daddy?
The faux-angelic voice floated down the hallway.
Can I draw for a little bit?
Maybe I'll put on some Deftones for goodnight lullabyes.
Good night, universe. Hope your weekend has been splendid.
____
More posts about sleeping below
