On our bookshelf: The Best Old Movies for Families

Nicole got this book from the library for me, as I love watching old movies, and even better, sharing them with the kids. Jackson loves the Thin Man Series and all the Hitchcock appropriate for him. (See the Rear Window post from earlier this week.) The girls love old movies as well, and we’re talking more than The Wizard of Oz.

Why show your kids old movies? The quality of writing/production is better on average, they are entertaining, and well, your kids might learn something. Plus you can share time with them, because you’ll be entertained without feeling like you have to sacrifice your intellect. So with that in mind, leave your favorite old movies to watch with/as kids in the comment section, and tell us why. Oh, and old roughly means pre-1970.

Ridding the world of typos, one at a time…

There are many noble pursuits in this world, like defending our nation’s freedoms, educating our youth, or helping the impoverished. While not as life-impacting, the efforts of TEAL (Typo Eradication Advancement League) make this world more livable one sign or menu at a time. If they ever get to Milwaukee, the Martini’s Martinis are on me!

Where does thunder come from?

One of the joys of parenting is watching your kids change and grow, seemingly before your eyes. The latest revelation was that Jackson (our awesome 9-year old son) now understands how thunder “works” for lack of a better term.

It started when last night’s thunderstorm woke him up and caused sufficient concern for him to roam upstairs into our bedroom. Already awakened by the Donner und Blitzen, I heard him coming. I did my best to seem remotely lucid and asked him what was wrong. Of course I already knew it was the storm. I don’t know why, but I launched into the explanation of what thunder is. (Nicole told him it was angels bowling which would have worked for our two little girls, but not for Jackson. By the way, my explanation was mostly right, so check the link above.)

He went back downstairs, where I found him the next morning. (All three were in Clara’s bed – safety in numbers I guess.) He then said:

“Dad, what you told me last night really helped me. Thanks.”

No Jackson, thank you, my not-so-little boy.