Dear Zev,
Today you went to your first movie. You sat in a theater seat, on a booster, and you watched the whole thing, beginning to end. Mickey Mouse and a few other live action friends did a dance number before the film started. When the lights went down at the El Capitan Theatre, you remarked, "It's dark in here." You weren't scared. You snacked on a bag of Pirate's Booty and drank a box of "really cold" milk. Your parents had popcorn and Pepsi.
This movie, your first movie, was Ratatouille, the story of a rat with a keen taste for fine food who becomes a chef in Paris. Because, as the rat's imaginary chef friend says, "Anyone can cook." You loved it. You laughed when manic things happened, or when somebody fell and knocked stuff over, or when the tiny evil chef made a funny face.
There was a Pixar short beforehand, about a fat green alien and his incompetent skinny charge totally screwing up a routine bodysnatching, and something about the fat green alien's face made you laugh and laugh.
Looks like you got your mother's love of slapstick and funny faces. Lucky kid.
Recent Comments