S'mores

We got the phone call this evening, a month after Mancub shoplifted that damn soda. Papa Seed actually took the call - someone from the court system recommending him for a diversion program. As far as we were concerned this was water under the bridge after dealing out what we thought were fair consequences and taking into account the incident happened one week after his official move-in date and the first day that it was just the three of us together as a family after weeks of visiting kin.

The rest of the day had gone well. After work, I hopped on a bus to meet up with the family to see an afternoon showing of Sicko. Mancub had lost his contacts while swimming earlier in the day and wanted to sit far closer to the screen than I was comfortable but the things we do for love. He slept through most of it, so my manipulative attempt to get him into documentaries which he has already stated are not movies and that he does not like was a bit of a failure. I thought he would find this quite funny, but as far as Michael Moore goes this was a bit less zany and full of a bit more unsauced slabs of meat. He did stay alert for most of the last half hour - even saying "That's sad" about one segment and "Why do people ever leave there?" after the France portion. Even if I did talk in theaters, and I don't not even to speak to my own child with more than one whispered word, I wouldn't have had an answer. France looked pretty damn great. So did Canada. And Cuba.

So he slept through most of it. I was disappointed, but I've decided not to give up. After all - he was way into the Planet Earth series never once referring to it as a documentary. And what are Pimp My Ride and Sweet 16 and whatever else those shows are, if not mini-documentaries that owe a great deal to Mr. Moore among others.

When the credits were rolling - and we have trained him to stay until they have stopped - he said to me "Is this Tenacious D?" Yikes. "No" I said breaking my no talking rule because it was such an important correction and because the actual film part was over. "It is Cat Stevens - Yusef Islam" I said giving both because I had to or I would have had to start scratching my skin and taking deep breaths. Some other day I'll tell him why I had to speak in a theater.

The phone call a few hours later totally harshed our post film mellow. Damn it. We came home and had watched an episode of Family Guy because that is what we do now. Fritz the Cat wasn't so nasty, and you had to be an adult to even enter the theater. I'm using it as a mutual exchange of interests. He owes me several Fellinis by now. Then we made cookies and while they were cooling the court woman rang. Mancub was totally angry during the diversion discussion, but such is life. He was adamant he will not go to counseling, although near the end of our chat he lessened his promise a tad saying he would walk out of counseling if it was in a white room and the counselor wore plaid pants. Then we started a fire and made S'mores.