Posted by: rocketbride | March 20, 2012

elmo’s doc

I got sick yesterday, a tsunami of sneezing that follows a weekend of similar symptoms in Maggie. Only with her, tinier and cuter. (Her baby sneeze at Drillhouse raised a collective sigh of appreciation.) The main result is that I’m reading more than usual, because I can’t get my mind to grasp anything else, and I burned through my emergency box of Kraft Dinner. In my own defence, I didn’t eat it straight out of the pot or chase it with Diet Coke, both of which I was known to do in my younger days.

Maggie has been quite tolerant of my decrease in usefulness. As long as I sing her favourite songs and allow her to paw at my face with a drool-slicked hand while she giggles in pure delight, we’re best buds. It’s not like she’s got anything particular to do.

We did manage to get to the baby group, where we spent the last five minutes in silence, just watching the kids. I watched the baby next to Maggie stretch until she snagged a handful of Maggie’s shirt and bring her closer. Maggie tried grabbing back, but quickly lost patience and started to yell. It’s not like my house isn’t an ongoing experiment in the interactions of Blake & Mags, but it was still interesting to see.

On Friday we pressed my parents into emergency babysitting service, and went downtown to see “Being Elmo” at the newly fancy Bloor Cinema. We had arranged everything for Saturday, but there was a last minute change of schedule, and the theatre offered to seat us so that we could head the director speak after the screening.

I’ve mentioned “Street Gang” before, and the righteous fever that has swept the household about all things Sesame Street. We’ve been watching clips online, borrowing old DVDs from the library, and reading books on and by Jim Henson. The funny thing is that we knew about this doc before the storm, as its subject Kevin Clash was on the Daily Show months ago, and we had already wanted to see it. The fact that it was the first movie at the aforementioned newly fancy Bloor was extra icing on the muppet cake.

It’s an amazing movie. I knew the bones of the story already from reading his book and all the others, but hearing him tell the story was something else again. I started crying when they showed the clip from Henson’s funeral with all the puppets singing. But the whole point of the documentary seemed to be that the inspiration wasn’t over, and that many things can still be done in the future.

At the very end of the Q&A, the director brought up a woman who had organized an additional screening as a fundraiser for a hospital room that her family was building to memorialize her son. She talked about how important Elmo had been to her son, and that even though he didn’t speak, he sang the theme when he wanted to see his videos. When we all left, I went to the bank machine and came back with cash. My cheque book was at home, and it seemed the least I could do, being lucky enough to have three kids who are all perfectly healthy.

And when we got home, Maggie, who had been giving my parents hell all night long, was so happy to see us that my heart leaped again. It was a very emotional night, all told.


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