G and I went to see Mr. Magorium's Wonder Emporium this evening. Nearly every review I've read of it has been bad, but I really didn't think it was that terrible. Dustin Hoffman was creepy in a Willy Wonka-ish sort of way, but the special effects were pretty, and there was a nice message about life and death, which was, in a nutshell, that the fact of death shouldn't overshadow the life that preceded it. Life, not death, is the most important part of anyone's story.
During the big speech to that effect, G kept turning to me and asking "Are you crying, Mom?" which is a minor obsession of hers. At any remotely sad movie, she'll spend all the saddest scenes checking me for signs of tears, and during the memorial service for P last July, she repeatedly lifted up my sunglasses to look. I find it a bit odd that she's so concerned, as I don't cry a lot and when I do, it's never in front of her. This is because in general, I think kids need to believe that Mom is OK and will be able to take care of them and not fall apart. Saying "I'm sad about that" or "I miss your dad" is one thing, and I've done both plenty of times, but sobbing on an eight-year-old's shoulder is quite another. It's a grownup's job to be a grownup and make the kids feel safe. (The drawback, of course, is that no one makes the grownups feel safe, but as my father likes to say, that's life in the big city.)
In other news, it was a beautiful dark, rainy day, and I say that with absolutely no irony. I love the rain, and we don't get nearly enough of it here to suit my tastes. I hope it doesn't actually rain tomorrow, since we're planning to go to my mother's house and it's a longish drive, but I'd be perfectly happy to have overcast skies for the rest of the weekend. Fingers crossed.