This weekend my husband had a *rare* day off work, so we decided to take our littlest guy to see a movie called “Strange Magic”. It was playing at our local “cheap” theater (tickets are $2.25) and we had a gift card, so after concessions we only paid $5.00 for everything. Totes winning. (Thanks, Carmike Cinemas for having a more affordable option in our town!)
Usually I have to really pump myself up to see animated films. I know the theater will be packed with kids talking and/or crying, and I would really just rather take a nap. However, Strange Magic is the second movie I have seen this year that surprised me with its greatness. This movie is delightful. Delightful, I say! It’s a musical, which I did not expect. The Bog King (voiced by Alan Cumming)is totally my favorite character. The plot is not extremely predictable, the animation is good, and the songs are so enjoyable. At certain points I was singing, my husband was singing, our son was dancing… it was a wonderful time! I’m telling you, there’s nothing so sweet as catching glimpses of a little one’s face while they are completely entranced in a story like this one. Half the time I was watching the screen, and half the time I was studying my boy, sitting on the edge of his seat, smiling, fascinated. Why can’t all movies be this good?!
The rest of our weekend was filled with house cleaning, workouts, and car shopping. Two things we always do on Sunday (or I do alone, if my husband is working): Church and Fried Chicken. Almost every week. On both sides of my family Sunday is a day of eating. My mom’s mother is French, and makes bread by hand every Sunday morning, then we all feast on it after church. My dad’s mother makes country-style meals with fixins. In my house, we do fried chicken.
As we were sitting at the table looking over our Sunday lunch, I felt overwhelming gratitude. The South, particularly the states I have lived in most of my life – Georgia and Alabama – takes a lot of crap from the rest of the nation. It is the butt of many jokes, and is criticized on the regular for not conforming to what is normal everywhere else. But I am SO grateful we live here. Grateful to have been raised here, with front porches and rocking chairs and sweet tea. With tire swings and creeks and Sunday Service. We worship Jesus and we say ‘yes ma’am’. We say grace and we walk around barefoot and we make our biscuits from scratch. I cannot imagine life any other way. I cannot imagine raising our kids any other way. If you don’t live down here, well, y’all just don’t know what you’re missing.