Tuesday, January 13, 2009

The Flamingo Flu and Thomas the Tank Engine

You'll be glad to hear that the Flamingos are feeling better, but have some apologies to issue to everyone we infected along the way: the four Bunco players here Sunday night when Mace yakked into Dez' hands, everyone at Church at the Bay who came into contact with Mace and squeezed his cute little face or patted his sweet little head Sunday morning, and anyone on the Northwest Airlines 5:00 flight from Tampa to Memphis Sunday night. If you're not puking yet, you will be. The Flamingo Flu is vicious and no respecter of rank or those who regularly take vitamins. For this, I sincerely apologize. I'm still waiting for an apology from the person who passed it to Casey (you know who you are).

In the meantime, I'm trying to figure out why my computer isn't working (I'm having to borrow Grandma's to write this). I suspect the answer lies here:


Sure, he looks innocent enough -- just watching some train videos on YouTube that his Pop-Pop got him hooked on.


When he gets to the prone position, though, you gotta watch out. Something about those videos gets him all crazy eventually and he starts pounding the keys. Maybe the trains aren't moving fast enough. Maybe he can't figure out why real trains don't have faces like Thomas.


And while we're on the subject of Thomas. We have watched no less than 28 hours' worth of Thomas and Friends videos over the last two days and I cannot watch one episode without getting bogged down in the absurd underpinnings of this show. I get that it's a show that's more boy-oriented and that it is supposed to teach little boys lessons about not teasing each other and not being "cheeky." But how did these engines with the faces get here? Were they born? Do they have parents? How do they propagate? If one of them falls off a high enough cliff (they are always falling off embankments and into ponds, so it could happen) and they get crushed to smithereens, would they actually die? Would there be a funeral? And why can some of the freight cars they run into get smashed to pieces, but we're not worried -- it stands to reason that if some of the freight cars have faces and feelings (though they are naughty pretty much all the time) wouldn't they all? And in the age of Pixar, why on earth is anyone filming plastic toys?

These questions bother me nearly as much as wondering where Max and Ruby's parents are?


Are they workaholics? Are they invisible? Did they leave one day for a vacation and "forget" to take their children with them? Who on earth would let their seven year old daughter be the full time caregiver for their two year old? And worse, let said seven year old daughter babysit little baby Huffington with no adult anywhere to be seen? Sure, there's a grandmother, but she has her own house across town; she can't be relied on to monitor the craziness at Max and Ruby's house! I have to admit, though, Ruby is much more patient with Max than I would be. I would not be nearly as calm with Max after he dumped juice into his bath for the third time and stained himself purple. Apparently those two are better off as orphans.

2 comments:

  1. Completely agree about Max and Ruby but what about Caillou? Why doesn't he have any hair he's 4 and why is his dad home all the time, doesn't he have a job? Talk about patient parents.....that Caillou is a brat!

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  2. Max and Ruby is done in the same style as Peanuts - from the childs point of view. I think it's brilliant.

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