I took The Pony to see Super 8 today. It was better than I expected. If you like special effects, they were impressive. If you like kid actors, they were good. Especially that little gal who may or may not be a Fanning, and that big kid who was the movie moviemaker. I don't know their names because imdb.com takes too long to load on my Molasses in January, Inc. internet speed.
Last night, we had some severe storms in our area. You know, funnel clouds passing over the interstate scattering two billboards as reported by a law enforcement official kind of storms. At 11:30 p.m. we were holed up in Gunrunner H's concrete room in the basement. He sat on the only chair like it was his throne. I stood. The #1 son dashed out into the basement proper and grabbed a tiny rolly chair at his old desktop. The Pony sighed and knelt and laid his head on a metal footrest on a shoeshine chair which is not sittable because of all the junk on it. You'd think His Royal H-ness would have given me the chair, especially after I hinted at it several times, then pointedly asked him for it. Nope.
Do you think it has anything to do with him only getting a card and a Backyard Chicken magazine for Father's Day?