The Sun Will Come Out

I can’t blame Diana. I really can’t. At least three times a day, a toddler will swing a lightsaber at her skull. The chances of walking across our carpet without a plastic rifle getting embedded into your foot are nil. Even Luca uses Star Wars figures as teething rings.

In a bold, last ditch, Hail Mary move, Diana introduced the family to the movie “Annie.”

Diana loves this movie. Has donned the curly red wig in countless productions. Knows every word of every song, knows who played the war profiteer, Daddy Warbucks (Albert Finney in the movie, her dad in local theatre).

Here’s the thing. I’ve never seen it. I don’t know why. I have nothing against rich old guys who use their power and influence to buy their very own red headed orphan.

Diana went about it in the right way. She placed the movie atop our TV and drummed up interest by saying Elijah could only watch it if he was a good boy and took a nap and didn’t hit, bite or cry. Kind of a tall order these days. But it worked. After a short while, Elijah began talking about nothing but Annie. Who was this girl in the short red dress? Why did she have such terrible hair? And what, if anything, did this have to do with Star Wars?

I came home Sunday from Yoga (Yes, I still do yoga. Wanna fight about it?) and found Diana and Eli watching Annie for the first time. Diana hedged her bet by setting the viewing during the time of day we usually ban TV watching. So there was an illicit quality to the screening. She also acted out the entire movie for Eli, which I’m sure he thought was black magic.

Was it a success? He did seem to enjoy it. So much so that he spent the rest of the day singing a song about Annie. But he set it to the Star Wars theme:

“Annie…da da da Annie…da da da Annie…Annie and Sandy!”