|Not the right movie, but the image will do--|
1959, Castle's The Tingler
with Vincent Price.
* * *
When I took Nate to kindergarten this morning, I asked him if he wanted to put on his jacket.
Nate: When my teeth are going up and down, it means I am cold. When my teeth are not going up and down, I'm not cold.
The beginning of wisdom, or something. Scarce as hens' teeth.
Also, some hours earlier, in bed:
Nate climbs in.
Nate: I thought there were ghostes [GHOST-ez, Nate-plural of ghost] sitting on the bed.
I burble comforting nonsense and go back to sleep.
Nate, still thinking hard, wakes me up: What are you afraid of?
(No doubt I am semi-comatose, as befits a mother of three after a long day.)
I wake up enough to laugh.
Nate: Or moving skeletons?
Which is odd because that's exactly what I was afraid of at the age of 5, my babysitters in Baton Rouge (a childless couple, friends of my parents) having let me see a movie about that very thing... Or was it Gramercy, and I a bit younger?
We didn't have a t.v. at our house, so I suppose it was pretty potent stuff for me, all those glarey-white bones clattering around on the screen. I remember clearly the hospital setting, a skeleton in the back seat of a car coming into life behind the doctor and a pretty nurse, and skeletons pushing baby carriages over a cliff. I expect that was especially horrifying, as I wasn't so many years out of being a baby myself.