I am not a big “movie watcher”. And I rarely count most movies I do see as memorable enough to memorize lines from them. However, there are three movies that contain certain phrases that just seem to fit a myriad of situations that arise in our family. First is the movie “A League of Their Own”. The story follows two sisters playing on a team in the women’s babseball league during WWII. The coach,played by Tom Hanks, has to deal with many things including at one point one of his players crying. His response to the woman was: “There’s no crying in basbeball!”. The Daddy-man and I have said this many times to the chicks when they begin to tear up over small things…and with 4 chicks this happens more than we would care to mention.

The second movie is “Babe”. You know the one about the pig who wants to be a sheepdog. Three lines come to mind and seem to fit about every occasion. First, we have : “Christmas is carnage! Christmas is carnage!” This just cracks us up because carnage is what our house seems filled with Christmas morning after three sets of grandparents have finished supplying our children with more toys than Geoffrey the Giraffe has in his inventory. It is also a great saying to tell the chicks when the topic of conversation needs a little levity…they usually look at Daddy-man and I like we are nuts and laughter ensuse. Second is the line “Who’s a fat little piggy…you are! you are!” (said in the best imitation of Mrs.Hoggett’s voice as possible) We just say this whenever…usually in reference to our old and slightly potbellied beagle. Third is the line:’ That’ll do pig.” We use this as a term of endearment when one of the chicks has done a fine job…please don’t email me or post comments about the political correctness of calling one’s children pig–you just have to see the movie to understand the context of this line…we say all these things to our children in love and maybe a little bit of jest…they know it and laugh right with us.

The third movie, “The Sandlot”, is about the baseball/summertime antics of a young bunch of boys, one of whom really knows very little about baseball. He is befriended by the group who live for their sandlot ballgames. One evening, sitting in a treehouse the new boy is asked if he’d like a s’more. He reponds by saying he hasn’t had anything yet, so how could he want more. This goes on for a couple of minutes when finally the boy making the s’mores responds with “You’re killing me Smalls!” (the new boys last name). Well, we use this line for just about everything. It is by far the family favorite…especially the Daddy-man’s, and especially in reference to something I have done! Yes, in our family I am “Smalls”. This was no more evident than in a conversation the Daddy-man and I had recently. It went something like this:

Mother Hen (standing at kitchen sink early in the morning): “Uggh!”

Daddy-man (sanding on other side of kitchen counter):” What’s wrong?”

Mother-Hen: I don’t feel so good in the mornings (said somewhat sheepishly)

Daddy-Man: “Don’t even say that!!” (walks briskly off to the other room)

A few minutes later…

Daddy-man reenters and finds Mother-Hen sitting on sofa in family room looking green.

Daddy-man: “You’re killing me Smalls. You know that, don’t you?”

Mother-Hen: “Yes, I know..I always have…LOL!”

Maybe we’ll call baby #5 “Smalls”…

originally posted 7/4/05