I took the boys to a movie a couple days ago. It was an afternoon showing at the $3 a show theater that has stuff no longer available in most theaters, but not quite yet out on DVD. It’s an old school dive theater from the 70s, and I love it. The projection is a little too dark, the seats are threadbare and squeaky. I feel 13 years old again. And there are rarely more than 12 people at a showing.

Anyway, right before the movie started, a mother with trailer hips and three kids came in. She had a little girl who screamed and cried for nearly the entire 104 minutes. Periodically, the yelling was about the fact that Momma was on the cell phone, and the movie told her Momma wasn’t supposed to be on the cell phone.

Momma’s response?

“Quiet down, people are trying to watch the movie.”