"Wild Things" should be rated PG13

We took our 4-year-old son to his first movie in a theater Friday.

The theater experience was good. Our son sat perched on his seat entranced with the scene. He remarked that the screen was bigger than our TV. He marveled at the runway-esque red lights that guide people to the stairs and their seats. He enjoyed nibbling on cheese popcorn (in a small Ziplock bag from home) while his friend Rachel, her mom, his mom and his dad enjoyed theirs. And he was amazed at the brightness outside after sitting in the dark.

But the movie "Where the Wild Things Are" was a bad choice. Thankfully, much of it was over my son's head, and he had the distraction of being in a movie theater for the first time.

I had read the book many times, watched a movie trailer, seen some advertisements for it and read a DNT blog that it would be a good movie to take the kids to. The outing had been suggested by my husband and Rachel's mom, both teachers who love children. I was sold and didn't do any further research.

The movie has a few similarities to the book: the look of Max and the monsters, some memorable lines of dialogue and the scene where Max, dressed in his wolf suit, chases the dog with a fork. But it is dark and violent, focused on raging out-of-control anger and physical abuse.

Mom gets a D- for this one.

The depths of unemployment

There's an excellent article in this month's Hadassah magazine called "Breaking a Recession's Social Barriers."

As someone who has been experiencing the depths of unemployment for a year now, I found Ilana Goldhaber-Gordon's commentary to be thoughtful, hopeful and even comforting. It also could be helpful to family, friends and still employed colleagues of those who are unemployed.

Here's the link: http://www.hadassah.org/news/content/per_hadassah/archive/2009/09_Oct/commentary.asp

Coal

It was an unexpected find among the rocks and driftwood that had washed ashore at the very end of Minnesota Point.

Being the granddaughter of two coal miners, I recognized it immediately. "Check this out," I called out to my exercise buddy as I bent to pick up the dark black lump. The coal was unexpectedly light in my hand.

I had been searching for unusal rocks to take home to my son and already was happy with some granite and sandstone beauties we had found. Now I was downright excited. I thought of all the things I could tell my son about this "rock," even imagining him taking it to preschool on his sharing day.

Our family history, how coal is used, the likelihood of where it came from, how it came to be on the beach at Park Point, connecting the songs he's been hearing about men working and dying in the coal mines on Kathy Mattea's tribute CD, fossil fuels, global warming -- there are plenty of things to learn from that one black lump.

Roots

The bike trail in my home town of Glen Dale, W.Va., tools along the Ohio River for about 3 miles to Moundsville, W.Va., the town where my mother and father both grew up. The trail ends at a boat launch under a highway bridge, construction of which took my father's childhood home.

It was a grand old home with 12-foot-high ceilings, pocket doors into the parlor and dining rooms, a built-in china cabinet that extended from floor to ceiling, a large main stairway, a narrow back stairway out of the kitchen, built-in benches and fully paneled walls in the entry and a wooden mantlepiece around the parlor fireplace.

Every time my husband and I ride the trail, I bemoan the loss of my grandmother's and grandfather's home. I wish I could have shared it with my husband and son, even moreso, I wish they could have met my grandmother.

On this summer's trip to West Virginia, I learned something new about my family history, thanks to my brother's presence. He had taken his wife for a tour around Moundsville to show her the sights, which included the home of my grandfather's parents. My great-grandparents lived two blocks down from my grandparents in an even older home that still stands.

The next time we biked the trail, my husband and I stopped to take photos of the home on the corner of 14th Street and Lockwood Avenue. I wondered what it was like when Michael and Mary Novel lived there.

Happy anniversary

My layoff buddy and I celebrated the first anniversary of our unemployment from the DNT yesterday. We were a few days late as the actual one-year mark occurred last Thursday.

A friend of ours, one of the few former colleagues who has kept in touch with us, took us out to lunch at Lake Avenue Cafe. (The salmon wild rice soup and three-variety mushroom pizza were delicious, by the way.)

Afterward, we poked our head into Grandma's Marketplace, a gift shop that's headed out of business where everything is 50 percent off. (I managed to buy three Hanukkah presents and a gift for my mother-in-law for under $12.)

While there, we offered advice on navigating the world of unemployment to the store's sales personnel who soon will be losing their jobs. Unfortunately, our newly acquired expertise is in demand.

Happy anniversary Karen, Bente, Tracy, Ann, Ryan, Matt and Steve.

Warning

I took my son to the doctor for his annual check-up on Friday. He got a clean bill of health, a lollipop and a flu shot.

I got the flu.

It literally laid me flat for the extended Labor Day weekend. My accomplishments over those three days: filled three plastic grocery bags full of used tissues, read the fifth Harry Potter book, took a shower, managed to croak out one chapter of Charlotte's Web to my son.

My advice this flu season: Stay away from those doctor's offices. And a special thanks to my husband for being Mommy and Daddy the entire weekend.

The things kids say: X-ray vision

On the 1,000-mile drive home from West Virginia, my husband, trying to monitor traffic in the rearview mirror, asked our son to lower the Life is Good baseball cap he was waving high over his head.

The invariable "Why?" response came, to which my husband said, "I don't have X-ray vision. I can't see through your head."

Thinking about a favorite super hero who has X-ray vision, my son's response was quick: "If you had X-ray vision Dad, you could melt my head."