ninanevermore

Today on the drive into work, I was thinking about the fact that my husband and I went out and saw a movie last night, in an actual cinema. I have not been to a movie since I was pregnant; this is the longest I have ever gone without going to the movies. Two things made it possible. The first was that for the first time since I can remember, Jeff's schedule allows him a day off on a weekend. The second was my father's offer last week to babysit.

We ended up seeing "The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe," which Jeff says is the type of movie that should be seen on the big screen. My other choice was "Walk the Line," but Jeff claims that a movie like that is still awesome when you rent it, whereas something with epic battle scenes must be larger than life to appreciate. Since the movie is aimed at a young audience, the battle scenes were bloodless and the deaths were very tidy, but they were still very epic.

I have decided that it is best not to take my husband out in public where they are children about. He doesn't censure his comments enough.

At one scene in the movie, one of the little boys has been run through with a sword and his younger sister has a magic potion that she gives him that will "heal even the gravest wounds." She gives him a drop of the potion and he immediately quits looking like he's going to die. However, the boy had survived a rough couple of says in the company of the villainess of the film, and his face was bruised and his lower lip spit.

Jeff and I are those annoying types who look for continuity and logic flaws in movies. It's a hobby.

"If his sword wound is better, how come his face isn't better, too?" I whispered to Jeff.

"Good question," Jeff responded, a bit too loudly for my comfort considering the families with kids sitting around us. "Really, how powerful is that stuff? I mean, do you have to worry about your foreskin growing back?"

I had no choice but to hit him in the ribs with my elbow.

I just was hoping that the little girl sitting behind us didn't hear, and glad that it was not me who would have to explain to her on the ride home what a foreskin is.