DID DR. SEUSS JUST GET ALL UP IN MY POLITICAL BIDNESS?

Family movie night happened to us again. If you’re not familiar with Family Movie Night in your own home, this is a tradition that has grown in the Schlegel household over a period of years. It’s sort of like regular ole Kid Movie Night, except much more rigid and ritualistic. During ‘kid movie night’ all I have to do is push Play on the DVD and go about my business. But Family Movie Night has strict guidelines and concessions. For one thing, it requires the use of the old timey air-popping pop corn machine, because apparently the fast and convenient microwave kind of popcorn is not nearly as satisfying on such an occasion. And only on FMN is this manna from heaven served in the big, authentic red and white striped cups labeled “Popcorn,” and get to be eaten in the living room. Also a symbolic treat.

Other rules dictate that Erich and I must be completely present both physically and mentally, no Facebooking or laundry folding allowed. Even my 3-year old is hyper-vigilant on this point: “You no phone Mama! You missin’ da movie!” Seating shouldn’t be a problem for us, seeing as how we bought those Lazy Boy sofas where all the seats recline for just such nights. 5 recliners! 5 people! It’s perfect. However, no seat in the house is as appealing as where Erich or I am sitting. Three children, two laps—you do the math. So here we are, five family members, two seats, 6 blankets, 20 pillows. Which sounds cuddly except that each of my children are scrawny and pointy and it’s much like snuggling a bag of elbows. But we hunker down, resembling victims of a natural disaster huddling together for warmth (although the house is a toasty 78 degrees) and we get to watching.

Which brings us to the most precarious element of FMN—the movie selection. Now we can’t see anything that we own or the children saw in the theater, because my son has a photographic memory and is incapable of re-watching without giving you the play-by-play. “Okay, now watch this, you’re gonna think this is SO funny… wait for it…here it comes, he’s gonna pop out and….now wait…here he comes any minute, it’s so great…” I stare him down, annoyed, and he looks at me incredulous, “Mom! What are you looking at ME for, you’re gonna miss the funny--- oh, there it was. Now we gotta rewind it!” So in order to avoid killing him, it has to be a fresh movie every time. Tonight’s selection: Horton Hears a Who.

So I am watching the very cute tale of an elephant who hears a tiny speck on his flower and vows to protect it, although no one else believes there is a person in there. “A person is a person, no matter how small!” claims Horton. And then it hit me, “Did Dr. Seuss just slip an anti-abortion message into my children’s movie?” I keep watching. The mayor of Whoville has 98 kids. No condoms in Whoville, that’s for sure. (At least he has a wife and a job and none of the babies are in ICU on the taxpayers’ dollar. But that’s for another blog.) And all the jungle animals are attacking Horton the Elephant (which cannot just be a coincidental use of the Republican conservative symbol), insisting that he admit “If you can’t see it, hear it or feel it, then it’s NOT real!” Now you do not have go to church every Sunday to recognize that as a blatant faith message. So the unrelenting animal mob ties Horton down until his knees buckle and they are about to boil the speck. And it is not until someone finally listens closely to hear the tiniest Who voice, that the beloved speck is saved. Whew! I looked around to see if the full impact of the message has reached the rest of my family. They were still munching popcorn.

Now I’m not remotely trying to make a stand one way or another on abortion. I’m just saying Theodor Geisel IS. And this is not the first time his work has had political implications. I remember seeing the animated version of ‘The Lorax’ for the first time and not being able to sleep for three days because of what we were doing to our planet and chopping down all our Truffala trees (I still think this is a good message, but I’m sure there’s some lumber executives that don’t want their kids reading it). But he’s not the only author trying to mold our children’s brains through seemingly innocent stories. Take The Rainbow Fish, or as I like to call it “The Aquatic Communist Manifesto.” So in this asinine tale, the beautiful rainbow fish has all these shiny scales that he’s super proud of. And this other little fish comes over and says “Hey, can I have one of your scales?” and the Rainbow fish is like “What, are you freaking kidding me? Just give you one? No way.” So the other fish leaves and pretty soon everyone hates the Rainbow Fish. Until he gives away all of his scales and then everyone likes him because they all have the same amount (basically nothing). WHAAAAAAT???

I remember reading this for the first time to my oldest child when he was about 3 months old. I dropped the thing like I’d just realized the cover was made of asbestos. Then I frantically sang a rendition of “Baby Got Back” so he wouldn’t notice the program interruption while I pushed the offensive propaganda out of the nursery with my foot. Generosity and sharing is a fabulous message, but teaching kids that if you have something someone else wants you’ve got to give it to them or that makes you bad is wrong. And if someone has something you want, just whine and punish them until they give it to you. You deserve it-- they have more than you! I think this country has printed too many copies of The Rainbow Fish.

I guess my point is, there are powerful messages coming from all over the place, even when you least expect them during Family Movie Night. It’s not just popcorn going into those little bodies. I, of course, would never do something so political as an author. So please be on the lookout for my two newest childrens’ titles: “Benny the Dinosaur Gets Bounced on His Ass for Buying a Cave He Knew Was Too Expensive,” and “Pedophile Puppy gets Mandatory Neutering.”