Remote Euphoria

I think the remote control must have been a male internal organ in some former century. That is about the only thing that explains why men are so attached to it.

If you don't live with men or boys-becoming-men, let me catch you up. When you sit down with the penile set, they MUST have the remote within reach of one of their arms.

Actually, I think most men feel dissatisfied if the remote isn't physically ON them. It's kind of bad when Mike falls asleep watching a football game and I know exactly where to find the clicker: perched on his chest, like some victory trophy he won on the TV Olympics.

What is becoming kind of difficult is having a house full of male-types all watching the same show and only one remote to control all the action. Imagine four male lions all trying to court the only female lion within 100 miles. There's always SOMEBODY pawing at the poor thing.

Now this past weekend it was just me and the Babe all day Saturday. We had been stranded at home by the most unfortunate turn of events*.

Boys have a most peculiar sense of adventure when given an entire day of leisure. The Babe thought the trifecta of a lazy Saturday was Star Wars, pizza, and homemade cookies.

So, we ordered pizza in and watched Star Wars IV. Then Star Wars II. Then Star Wars I**. In fact, there was so much Luke, Leia, and Han that we totally forgot about making cookies.

Somewhere in the midst of StarWarsPalooza, the Babe needed to go to the loo. Since I live in a household of boy-types, they LOVE it when someone needs to potty because that means SOMEBODY GETS TO USE THE REMOTE!!!!

Me? I'm actually a little annoyed when someone announces their need for relief because that means we have to pause the movie and wait. And hope it's just a number one.

Babe looks at me and says "How do I pause it?" I guess being last in the pecking order of remote wielding has left him bereft of lessons on the fine art of pausing. So I show him.

To say he was beaming from ear to ear when he hit that button would be putting it mildly. He was as giddy as a school girl about to get her first kiss from the cute boy in the class. I'm pretty sure the act of pausing validated his manhood in some way.

We went through the motions of "playing" the movie then "pausing" the movie until I thought either the DVD remote batteries would die or he would pee himself because he hadn't gone to the bathroom. Really, it was getting obnoxious.

But, now, he had THE POWER. His own little light saber. An extension of his manliness that he could control. I think I heard him roar.

For my part, I accomplished a ton "watching" all four episodes of Star Wars that were in the cards that day. We had many conversations about how I knew so much about Star Wars*** and what the Babe would do if confronted by the "bad guys".

Somewhere in the process, I was crowned Princess Leia and my budding little Jedi learned the pause trick previously mastered by his Jedi-bros.

Now, let's just hope the dogs don't figure out they are the only ones in this house without the power. 'Cause I don't do slobber and I sure don't want it all over the remote.



*NEVER take your car into the Firestone and let someone else pick it up. They will attach your only car key to THEIR key ring and go about their merry way. The next morning you'll find yourself marooned. While they are having fun. In another town. A LONG, LONG way away.

**Are you seeing a pattern here?

***I'm older than dirt, child. I stood in line to see the FIRST one. And the effects about short-circuited my brain.