The word processor I am using right now informs me that I have committed an orthographic error in that title, but bah.
Word processors understand spelling, but don’t have the first clue about the purpose of language. And from that viewpoint, icrecreamable is – or at any rate ought to be – a word.
Allow me to explain.
There are some movies that are designed to be seen only in a theater. Dunkirk, for example. Can’t be seen at home. I mean, it can, but you’re missing the point. There are some movies that are designed to be started, but finishing is entirely optional. Dead Poets Society is an example that springs readily to mind. And there are some movies that are designed to be seen only the once, for the strain is far too much for the human mind to bear on a repeated basis. Schindler’s List, if you see what I mean.
But, and here’s the point, there are some movies that were created for the express purpose outlined in this column.
These movies were designed to be seen while cuddled up with your little one under a rug, with obscenely large bowls of chocolate icecream for company. Multiple helpings being almost mandatory.
And my pick for this category of movies? Sound of Music.
Here are detailed instructions. Lay out two mattresses in front of the television set. Sprinkle said mattresses liberally with pillows, cushions and bolsters. Make sure the freezer is stocked with packs of icecream. I prefer chocolate, myself, for this exercise, but whatever works for you, really. Ask the little one to cuddle up with you under the blanket. The blanket is a function of the temperature, of course, but I simply can’t envisage this scene sans blanket.
Start the movie (I was going to say pop the movie in, which just shows you how old I am, I suppose), and spend the next three hours marveling at the movie.
Sing along with Julie Andrews, laugh along with the kids, deploy your deepest baritone for keeping up with Christopher Plummer, and worry and fret about the fate and fortune of the Von Trapp family. Sigh at the Laendler, make wistful faces when “I am sixteen” comes on, belt out “The Lonely Goatherd” at the top of your voice, and have everybody join in on “My Favorite Things” and “Do Re Mi”. I mean, we all know the drill, really.
At the end of the entire exercise, if the gods are kind, you will have finished the following: at least two bowls of chocolate icecream, and an excellent, always watchable movie. And if your maker is feeling especially benevolent, you will find yourself cuddling a fast asleep child in your arms.
At which point, you should gently disengage self from child, offer thanks to providence for having created the movie, and to round things off, go get yourself a final helping of chocolate icecream.
As I was saying, icecreamable movies should be a thing.
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He doesn't expect the paradox to be resolved in his lifetime
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