Roanoke Times
Copyright (c) 1995, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: MONDAY, August 14, 1995 TAG: 9508140017
SECTION: EDITORIAL PAGE: A7 EDITION: METRO
SOURCE: MONTY S. LEITCH
DATELINE: LENGTH: Medium
IN WHICH WE WATCH TV: Do you suppose this a tranquil activity? I did. It was too hot outside to play. So, I said, ``Yes, you may watch TV.''
But the fidgets set in early. The only totally transfixing moments were those we call ``commercials.'' The boys know every commercial by heart. ``This one's stupid,'' they warned me. (They were right.) And yet, they watched with the glazed-over intensity of hyper-hypnotized consumers. As did I.
In the heat, we consumed hours of ``Nickelodeon,'' hours of ``The Cartoon Network,'' hours of movies on ``Pay Per View.'' I saw shows I never knew existed; some of them surprised me. I will, for instance, watch ``Rugrats'' again, even without nephews, on the off chance that someday I'll once again be privileged to see ``The Mega Diaper Babies'' save the universe.
Some of the shows, however, didn't surprise me at all. ``Slam Dunk Ernest'' was exactly what I expected. And, apparently, what the boys expected, too. They were sadly disappointed when the Charlotte Hornets' number 33 didn't appear with his teammates.
IN WHICH WE TELL TIME BY TELEVISION: One variation goes thusly: ``When this cartoon is over, the television goes off.''
Another:
``How long before we get there?''
``About an hour.''
``About as long as `Fresh Prince of Bel Air'?''
``Two episodes. Back to back.''
They understand immediately. They take naps.
IN WHICH WE WALK IN THE WOODS: On my own, I've seen only one snake all summer. A tiny little thing, eager to get away from the lawn mower.
With the boys - two in one day.
Along with the nearly intact skeleton and most of the feathers of a crow.
William sees everything. It's he who spots the snakes and the crow. On another walk, he hands me a goldfinch feather. ``You want this?'' he asks casually. As if goldfinch feathers appear in the yard every day.
Patrick heads off into a den of rhododendron, intent on finding the source of the woods' rivulet. I consider shouting after him, ``Watch out!'' But William's with him. Whatever is there, William will see.
IN WHICH WE WRITE STORIES: They compose. I take dictation on the computer. Typing as fast as I can.
Their joint composition is entitled ``My Aunt's House Is Haunted.'' It begins, ``One night when me and my brother spent the night in a tent at my aunt's house, we heard this really creepy noise outside. It sounded like a giant farting.''
Little boys have such refined senses of humor.
IN WHICH WE VISIT THE NEW RIVER VALLEY FAIR: We buy ``Ride All Night'' stamps for the backs of our hands, and then ride the bumper cars over and over and over again.
Twice on the Ferris wheel, too. And the boys delight in a huge sliding board that this old aunt refuses to try. We get our money's worth.
And go back, over and over and over, as well, to the Fun House and the Baby Animals Barn.
Patrick gives William his last dollar for another dart-throw at the balloons. William wins ``Power Ranger'' stickers, which he sets aside for his little brother at home. Patrick protects William from the monsters in the Haunted House, and William runs as fast as he can and holds a place in line for Patrick back at the bumper cars. At 10:30 p.m., we leave.
IN WHICH THIS OLD AUNT SLEEPS ALL AFTERNOON: The nephews have gone home.
Monty S. Leitch is a Roanoke Times columnist.
by CNB