I want to publically thank my brother and sister-in-law for buying Charlie and the Chocolate Factory on DVD for my son this past holiday. Because my family (and by family, I mean those of us under the age of ten) has been watching the movie every day for, well, weeks I think. And singing the songs from the movie. Over. And over. And over. Again.
Okay, okay...so they bought it for my kids per our recommendation. And, okay, so we have parental control over what and how much they can watch. But I'll tell you right now, I'm about to throw the movie in the garbage can. (Only, that won't work, since our daughter seems to like finding things in the garbage...particularly edible things...) Just how many times can you listen to your children sing, "Chewing, chewing, all day long...chewing, chewing, all day long..."? Well, frankly, much like the Owl who must try to figure out how many licks it takes to get to the center of a Tootsie Pop, I just don't have the patience to find out.
The movie is, in all fairness, a good one. In fact, they have these special features where they teach the kids all the moves to the dances the Oompa-Loompas do. In a way, it is a form of Phys. Ed. But now, not only do they sing the songs over and over and...well, you understand...but they dance. They'll be walking through the living room and break into dancing, putting John Travolta's performance in Staying Alive to shame.
I think back to when I was this age, and I realize that we still didn't even have a way to watch movies at home. We had to wait until they were on network television, since we had neither cable nor a VCR. So, the obsession that kids can have with movies is a relatively new phenomenon. One, I must say, I'm not altogether pleased with. But then, in a day and age where allowing your kids to play outside puts them at risk of predators (of the human variety), there are limited options for what they can do inside our tiny house. Reading, of course...except that only our oldest is able to read.
So, they watch. And watch. And watch some more. And I'm sure that at some point tonight, after I walk through the doors, I'll have to tell my kids, "Please! Not again!" I'm rather certain of this, because earlier today my son called me at work and said, "Dad? Where's the Willy Wonka DVD?"
"In the garbage, son." (Okay, not really.)
