A Cinderella StoryDecember 11, 2013
You think I’m about to tell you a story about over-working young children, forcing the youth of the house to bear the burden of unwanted chores. However, with the exception of the poor abused laundry machine forced to scrub the soiled garments of twins who refuse to potty train, this is a tale of the Walt Disney Classic.
One of the most famous fairy tales (most notably Walt Disney’s 1950s classic) was showing in our local RetroDome (you can tell the kind of movies playing there by the theatre’s name). In actual film! Skips, scratches and all.
“I like Cinderella. She’s pretty.” Search is in love with everyone’s favorite rags-to-riches blondie. (Although I would like to state Cindy looks awfully brunette in a lot of those scratchy old-school reels.)
So we set up a date. We were going to meet up with one of the girls from school, Minnie – the third musketeer to the muppets’ Mickey/Donald quarreling terrific twosome.
We entered the retro lobby where a footman costumed in period gear welcomed us – bestowing bags of goodies upon us, which would be explained once we took our seats.
While we waited for our friend, the boys ran rampant. They gleefully explored all the Disney character cardboard cutouts dotting the theatrical arena to boast of future engagements. They took turns knocking each and every one down. Every. Single. One. Like it was a their own personal game of life-size pinball.
Clearly sitting still for a 76-minute feature film was going to go swimmingly.
“Is the real Minnie coming?” the boys asked. “Like from our school?” (They’d just gone to see Santa that morning without blinking an eye. But we had to verify the veracity of the Minnie we were about to meet.)
She walked in and the energy levels went through the roof. Nary but a millisecond of shyness before the two started screaming and giggling. It was *clear* Search loved that little girl. (Poor third-wheel Destroy.)
So we took our seats.
Remember those goodie bags I mentioned?
A glow in the dark star magic wand – a perfect fit for the show at hand.
But first Cinderella communes with the birds as she begins her morning chores. So those responsible for said goodie bags thought it would be a heavenly idea to bestow throngs of admiring princesses and princes with wooden painted bird whistles. (Made in China. Not yet sure if I should be concerned that most of the paint from the valve has been chewed off.) There was also a packet of candy corn to emulate feeding chickens (and mice).
Totally not off-topic tangent: at what age do kids realize that eating popcorn off a movie theatre floor will give your mom germicidal convulsions?
During the final dance sequence Destroy turned to me and exclaimed, “How beautiful!”
Meanwhile, as the credits rolled, Search turned to Minnie, “Would you like to come to my house now?”
The adults cracked up. Well. Well. Well. Apparently the brothers are competing for title of household Casanova. Little Man’s got moves! Dad wasn’t comfortable asking girls back to his place until about age 23 (at which point he lived with Mom.)
I called out after them as they made their way toward the theatre aisle, “Hey, can you make sure Search has his magic wand?”
And as the adults dissolved into adolescent giggles, Search began chasing Minnie around the lobby – once again taking out a number of the Disney cardboard characters.
Who needs a nap when you’ve got your fairy tale come true – your girlfriend from preschool.
Apparently everyone, as the follow up I received read, “Hope your evening was better than the awesome toddler meltdown I had to deal with. Ah, good times!!”
I’m going to call Cinderella a success. Everyone was exhausted and melt-downy by evening’s dawn. But then again, at age 3, midnight comes a lot earlier – turning parents and tots back to pumpkins alike.
Love takes a lot out of the little ones. And as a lasting commemorative item from the goodie bag, we still had a keepsake glass slipper to remember our movie date. (The wand and whistle vanished at midnight. That’s my story and I’m sticking with it.)