A couple months ago, as I was flipping through the channels, I stumbled across a childhood treasure. I put down the remote and watched as the bright colors and lively songs drew Quinn toward the screen.
When I was little girl, long before the days of the DVR and Netflix, The Wizard of Oz came on TV once a year. The broadcast was such a special occasion, my parents allowed me to stay up past my bedtime to see the end. My mom always tells me how much she enjoyed watching me watch the movie, laughing along with me as I became old enough to get more of the jokes, like when the Cowardly Lion asked the Tin Man, “How do you stay fresh in that can?”
Q was enthralled with the colorful land of Oz for a few minutes, the max of his toddler attention span. As he gets older, I hope to make this classic a special part of his childhood, too.
As a side note, Hubs has never seen The Wizard of Oz. Ever. I learned of this travesty when we first started dating, and I tried to make him watch it with me. He was asleep before the Cowardly Lion finished singing “King of the Forest.” This made seeing Wicked together a bit interesting, as certain parts required explanation.