A couple months ago, as I was flipping through the channels,
I stumbled across a childhood treasure. I put down the remote and watched as
the bright colors and lively songs drew Quinn toward the screen.
When I was little girl, long before the days of the DVR and
Netflix, The Wizard of Oz came on TV
once a year. The broadcast was such a special occasion, my parents allowed me to
stay up past my bedtime to see the end. My mom always tells me how much she
enjoyed watching me watch the movie, laughing along with me as I became old
enough to get more of the jokes, like when the Cowardly Lion asked the Tin Man,
“How do you stay fresh in that can?”
Q was enthralled with the colorful land of Oz for a few minutes,
the max of his toddler attention span. As he gets older, I hope to make this
classic a special part of his childhood, too.
As a side note, Hubs has never
seen The Wizard of Oz. Ever. I
learned of this travesty when we first started dating, and I tried to make him
watch it with me. He was asleep before the Cowardly Lion finished singing “King
of the Forest.” This made seeing Wicked
together a bit interesting, as certain parts required
explanation.
