John and I went to see Cloverfield last night. We both loved it. The hand-held camcorder style was pretty convincing, and it made it all the scarier that you couldn't really see much of what was going on a lot of the time. John and I have both always loved scary movies. Even now, when we are sort of living one, they provide a mental escape. A couple of years ago, after we saw Underworld 2, John snorted and whispered to me, "We're just a couple of vampires and a pair of leather pants short of being this movie." The couple behind us heard him and looked at us grimly. I am not sure if one or both of them had been compromised, or if they were just mad that we were talking during the movie. Or both.
The movie was awesome, but I was almost too nervous about leaving the kids to enjoy it. They were with my mom, and this is, of course, the safest possible time of the month, but I worry. I worry mostly about the usual stuff: what if one of them gets sick, or gets hurt, or misses me, and my mom doesn't know exactly what to do? I realize that my mom knows what she is doing. As she often points out to me, I myself am living proof that she knows what she's doing. Still, though ... I worry.
No comments:
Post a Comment