There will never come a time when I will tire of the constant stream of thoughtful friends, family members and neighbors unexpectedly stopping by the house to drop off arbitrary gifts for Jack and Adam. I don’t care if they are hand-me-downs or store bought, from FAO Schwartz or The Dollar Tree, from yard sales or tag sales, picked out of roadside garbage cans or dumpsters, or even cheap knock-offs selected from the breakaway card tables of illegal street vendors… I say keep them coming.
A regular contributor to the Jack and Adam’s toys coffers is Uncle “Bri-guy” Brian who recently presented Jack with a vintage Transformer he’d picked up at garage sale. Being a recovering child of the 80’s I’d like to think know a thing or two about Transformers. One would be that when it comes to a Transformer there is more than meets the eye. Another would be that Transformers are really nothing more than robots in disguise. From the way this particular Transformer’s back and neck twisted and the manner with which all its joints swiveled and sounded like the wheel at a Vegas roulette table I’m certain that it was Chiropracticon. What became quickly apparent though was that my encyclopedic knowledge of Transformers is more conceptual, more “big picture”, than it is practical as Jack and I unsuccessfully tried to decipher the damn thing’s transformative secrets. For hours we folded its hands backwards into its elbows, dislocated its shoulders, rotated its waist 180 degrees, and bent it’s legs back to the point where it felt like we were making low budget Japanese S&M porn. That is until Jack touched something on its head and its eyes glowed, its breast plate opened and it shot him in the chin with a three-pronged yellow cylinder and then I was certain that we were making low budget Japanese S&M porn. In the end, we succeeded in transforming it from a robot into a robot in the fetal position…pretty much how most of those movies end…or so I’ve been told.
Since Jack is now obsessed with discovering the “secret of the transformers” I took him to see the new Transformers movie last night. Going to the movies with Jack is always an adventure since he’s only been to a handful of films in his life not counting low budget Japanese S&M porn. This time we arrived at the theater a few minutes early and no sooner had we stepped into the ticket line did he tell me he had to go poop; I should have expected this since he has a fondness for crapping in public bathrooms. It never fails. At the house before we leave we ask “Jack do you have to poop?” to which he’ll say “No”. Then the moment we’re out in public he’s all “I have to go poop.” He probably would have gone in the ticket line if I handed him an empty box of Goobers and a couple napkins. So I brought him to the bathroom, then returned to the ticket line, bought some popcorn and soda and went to the theater showing Transformers.
The theater was strangely empty of other moviegoers so after finding seats in the last row and acting responsibly for about 30 seconds Jack asked me if he could run up and down the aisles. Being a sensible adult and mindful of being a good example for Jack I told him I would time him. Once he got to the screen he banked hard left and came back up to our seats by snaking back and forth through the rows in a game I think is called “Next in line at the DMV”. When he finished I took off and followed the same course he had just pioneered and when I finished it was again his turn. This back and forth continued until a couple more people came in the theater just as the movie was starting. Jack returned to his seat, out of breath and panting and said, “Daddy I have to go poop again.” Not willing to take the chance that he was lying we raced to the bathroom where he once again somehow pooped and we got back to our seats just as the previews were ending. If they make them in kid sizes I’m considering a colostomy bag for him.
The movie had it all. All the major Transformers were in it like Kegatron – the commander of the Defectacons, Interestplus Prime, Peloton, BarryBonds, Gluteus Maximus, and GymLock, there was non-stop action and amazing special effects and most importantly it revealed the secret of the Transformers which is apparently formulaic Hollywood writing. Every time pointless lengthy dialogue, plot holes or gratuitous back story caused Jack and I to resort to popcorn fights to pass the time a car, a truck, a radio, an electric shaver, a food processor or an iPhone would suddenly transform into a robot and launch missiles at the awkward teenage boy who is slowly discovering himself and his over-the-top hot girlfriend with the Juvenile criminal record and a heart of gold who recently dumped the dumb jock because she wanted more out of a relationship and who, along with awkward teenage boy, despite only being in high school are more intelligent, more courageous and more clever than the Secretary of Defense and a team of secret military agents trained to protect the country. Plausible and brilliant…how do they do it?
The movie ran almost 2:30 hours and with about an hour left Jack told me he was ready to go. I had to use the, “There’s like five minutes left, it’s almost over.” 3-4 times until he just got completely out of hand and I shot him in the chin with a three-pronged yellow cylinder.
It was nearly 10:00 pm by the time the movie left itself open for a sequel contingent on total box office gross and we were both ready to get home. Even though we were only a few miles from the house Jack was asleep within minutes of leaving the parking lot. At one point he woke up and said he had to go potty again. I handed him a box of Goobers.