It's late, and I'm tired, and I still have a handful of student papers to grade before I can hit the sack. So I leave you with this fantastic Charlotte-ism that Jeff recorded today:
"There's so many orphans! In the Annie movie. There's like hundreds. Hundreds and hundreds. Remember at the end, there's fireworks? What was the doggy's name?"
Jeff, of course, didn't remember the doggy's name, so when I came home I was able to bust into a top-of-the-voice rendition of this song. Sam loved it. Jeff was mildly horrified.
(By the way, how fantastic is the girl who chimes in at :15?)
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Growing up, my siblings and I were, like so many children the world over, obsessed with orphans. There are all kinds of things I could say about why, but we'll just stick with the surface level weirdness that is children fantasizing, essentially, about the death of their parents.
We played "Boxcar Children" and "Pippi Longstalking" (she may have had a dad or whatever but she was a practicing orphan) and my sister (10 years older) directed, choreographed, and acted out most of the parts to a family (well children) production of "Annie" more times than I can count on one hand, maybe two hands.
Being the youngest, I had to be Miss Hannigan despite the obvious casting error (hello? the youngest?). In one production I was also THE DOG (hugging a silent me, my ham sister got to belt: SAAAAANDY! SANDY'S HIS NAME!). But for another iteration (yeah, I told you we did this a lot) I successfully lobbied to be Molly, the youngest orphan, and we even expanded her role a bit.
As we got older we just shifted our obsession over to the Anne of Green Gables TV series and books, because we clearly hated our parents and wished death upon them.
"Jeff, of course, didn't remember"
[[?]]
If I'd thought about it for more than two seconds, I'd've had it -- Sandy. Bam. -- and wouldn't have instead mindlessly thrown out "Um, George?" like I did. However, I was too busy frantically scribbling down the quote we so seem to enjoy above.
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