Not much time to write, the kids will wake up soon, and they have been…well, two…lately.  If I make it to three with most of my hair and a shred of sanity left I will declare myself the winner.   Some days I feel like I’ve lost all but one or two of my brain cells, and luckily the ones left tell me what my name is, where the kids’ food and diapers are, and where I hid the wine coolers.

Thank goodness for my fifteen year old.  It’s nice to talk to someone who I can mostly understand.  Someone I can be snarky to and will understand it.  Someone I can say “no” to and won’t fall on the floor in a fit of hysterics, screaming and rolling around, with big, fat tears rolling down his face.  Someone who won’t tell me I have to sit in a certain spot and watch him eat, or sit on my left butt cheek on the chair because for some reason the earth will end if I lean too far to the right butt cheek.

It’s nice.

He asked today why Native Americans were usually portrayed as the bad guys in movies.  He watched “Last of the Mohicans”…spoiler alert…lots of scalping and I ALWAYS cry when the girl jumps over the cliff at the end…and is now on to “Dances with Wolves”; he goes through movie moods and like to watch a certain genre for a time, then goes back to “Spaceballs” to cleanse himself.

I thought it was a good question.  He probed further. “Why are Native Americans portrayed as bad guys, Mom?  I mean, what were they supposed to do? Do the Macarena and say, ‘Well, hello there! I would LOVE for you to come and take my land away and kill my people! Yee-HAW!'”

I love him.  It made me laugh and think.  It’s true, though.  Who would do that? Have you ever seen an alien invasion movie where we gladly surrender earth?  Where we jump eagerly in line to become food?  Where we willingly allow ourselves to be hosts for some unknown alien baby?  I don’t think so.

If you have seen a movie like that, I beg you to give me that title, because it’s probably awesome.