Yes, it was the Torture Chamber, where Mr Popper’s Penguins (in audio form) was forced on my children during their confinement in the family minivan on the way home from Tahoe yesterday. You would’ve thought we were pulling out their fingernails one by one. They asked for Hawk Nelson, a Canadian band that does play semi-decent music even in my old-person’s opinion, but I said, “NO!” And out of the cd case came Mr. Popper followed by sighs, grunts, groans, pishaws and corresponding eye rolling.
The chanting began in the back of the van, but thanks to quality factory installed speakers, they could not out-shout Mr. Popper. Everytime they yelled and interrupted Mr. Popper, my husband, who is a closet-literary-buff (OK, stop laughing) would start the cd over. My children are quick studies. It only took them five or six times to stop the barrage of noise.
Finally after chapter one, I paused the intellectually stimulating penguin story and informed my three homeschooled offspring that there would indeed be a quiz before dinner. Flunkers would not be eating. Amazing how the stupid penguin story got very interesting after that. I asked really hard questions like “What is the Popper’s address?” and “Who was the admiral on the radio broadcast?” There was much cheating behind me, due to my children sincerely feeling empathy for a sibling who might go hungry. Coughs with the answer embedded and barely audible whispers were detected. Being full of grace and mercy, just like our Lord, I gave them all two chances and their answers proved they actually were listening. (One point for Mom and Mr. Popper.)
Funny thing was, the cd started skipping. I LOATHE library cds that skip. But that’s just another one of my shortcomings that don’t need mention here. As the full length story was considerably shortened, Rick told the kids to be thankful it was Mr. Popper’s speed reading day. Ha ha ha. Very funny, hon.
My parents used to torture us with a single eight track tape of a gospel quartet called The Statesmen. After a trip from California to Canada and back again with the sole Statesmen tape, we grew to appreciate good harmonies and men that could sing higher than Miss. Piggy. If you ever need any of the lyrics from the Statesmen, please contact me or my siblings. We know every single word…. in four part harmony, because we’re going to “see Saint Peter, Ol’ James and John, we’re gonna talk to the prophets one by one, when we move back into my Father’s house on Heaven Avenue.” See, it’s a generational torture chamber.
My Sister's Jar 