The television didn’t stay on a channel longer than four seconds as my husband surfed through the 400 stations of satellite entertainment. Out of frustration, he stopped on a show I was particularly fond of.
“There’s nothing on,” he said and tossed me the remote. I tucked the remote under my leg and finished folding laundry into piles.
A few towels later, a phrase that always made me laugh, played from the movie; “….smashing in the face of a piñata that resembles Summer Wheatley, is a disgrace to the whole Gem State…..” (I snorted, because sadly, I’ve actually heard a teacher say this before).
Our nine year old ran down the stairs and joined in on the final scenes of our hometown movie. (I think he is a bigger fan than me.) The final scene played and Seth popped up off the couch and pointed at the screen.
“Home! My home,” he said.
My husband and I laughed, because yes, in the background of the movie was our house. And, the scene was filmed at the elementary school next to us. I thought it was pretty cool that an autistic boy recognized his way home even from a silly movie.