this past weekend we watched the iron giant as a family. i’m going to be honest…i have never watched this movie before, and only picked it because it had a giant robot and to jonas that means THAT’S A BIG ROBOT, MOMMY. MOMMY? SEE THE BIG ROBOT? BIG ROBOT!!!!
so we’re sitting there, enjoying the movie when i can tell it’s taking a definite turn south. i mean, c’mon…there’s a missile headed for the city and one of two things are going to happen (and i’m desperately hoping that the robot makes it free and clear). i cut my tear-filled eyes over at john and tell him that THIS BETTER HAVE A HAPPY ENDING as the robot closes his eyes to await his kaboomesque fate. and all john can do is say REALLY? IT’S A CARTOON ROBOT.
i’m not going to say that my family sheltered me from sad or scary pop culture things while i was young, because that’d be an outright lie. i mean, what about the time that my dad waited for my mom to pull out of the driveway before he sat me down to watch saving private ryan? or that time that he rented the shining for me, not realizing that while i had watched it before, but the tv version is HIGHLY edited.
now that i think of it, maybe everyone EXCEPT my dad sheltered me.
when i was 14 or 15 years old, we watched old yeller at my grandma’s house. i had watched the movie a dozen times before, but when that gun shot rung out i was completely shocked. apparently i had never seen the last part of the movie, and before that day could never understand why people would remark that it was such a sad movie. either my grandparent’s turned it off before it got to that part, or i fell asleep. i found myself bawling because OMG WHY DOES TRAVIS HAVE THAT GUN! NOT OLD YELLER!