A February weekend in which we learn the value of good spelling.

I have a couple anonymous students who insist that Pitch Perfect is one of the greatest movies ever. Out of respect and curiosity, I watched it. It was humorous. I ran a scientific calculation and determined that it is does not meet the criteria to land a primo spot on the World’s Greatest Films list. But I enjoyed it. One time. Probably will not watch it eight times over a weekend. Ever.

Fairly sure I've just invented the one-step solution to World Peace. It is this:

If everybody in the entire world were required to play Bette Midler's 'The Rose' as loud as possible every morning, and sing along with all the fiery power they possessed in their soul, then there would just be no room for any hate left over in anyone.

As loud as you can. Go. GO!! No seriously. Go.

A Sunday morning:

Young Elton John jamming with the Muppets to Crocodile Rock.
Nobody wears sunglasses quite like him. Or feathers.

Saw the cutest cows in a foggy pasture. All snuggled up together, sitting down, chatting, sunbathing.
Or, rather, fogbathing.

Three o'clock in the morning.

Shuffling feet.
Open my eyes.
Flash of panic at the alien swords approaching my head.

Oh, never mind.

Just our junior Jedi Knight kids, in two-person processional, marching in to join us with their glowing mini light sabers.

My heart slowly returned to normal rhythm. But I slept with a quarter of one eye open. Just in case.

Snippets of conversation.

Mommy, how do you spell 'Hulk?'

She spells it out; he repeats each letter.

How do you spell 'Darth Vader?' And what does 'vengeance' mean? Is it Captain America?

Do you mean "Avengers?"

Yeah.

***

Daddy do you know what police officers do?

What do they do, Johannes?

They fight robbers with their gun. And they pee.

They pee?

Yeah. They go pee. And they fight.

****

I love good conversation. I have learned a lot tonight.