Gandalf the Grey vs. Santa Claus?

It is yet another brutally cold day here in the northeast. So what are we doing? Not cleaning the house (which really and truly needs it), nor are we doing crafts with the kids at the dining room table. In fact, we are not doing anything constructive, now that I think about it. We are on our duffs in front of the tube. We are watching one of our all time favorites, The Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring. While we own all three movies, it happens to be on TNT at the moment....which for the life of me, I cannot determine why I haven't gotten up and put the movie in so we don't have to watch the commercials, but I digress. As it has been a while since I have watched this particular movie (they always seem to show The Return of the King...why not show all three from beginning to end?!!), I was thinking back to the first time we rented this movie. The twins were just 3 and so precocious (scroll back down to my previous story of Mike and the dam...you'll get my drift). Let me set the scene....

The lights are all off. The surround sound, in perfect working order, is delighting us with perfect quality down to the last pin drop. The aroma of delicious buttery popcorn permates the air. The house is quiet except for the soft munching of said popcorn. On the screen, Bilbo has just disappeared from his eleventy-first birthday celebration and goes back to the house (love those little houses and the round doors....again, I digress) to pack and finds the evil ring and is wondering what to do with it. Gandalf, with his humble grey robes and matching beard, enters and begins to discuss with Bilbo the power that the ring holds. Bilbo accuses Gandalf of wanting the ring for himself. The lights begin to flicker as Gandalf rises to his full height, and booms, "Bilbo Baggins! Do not take me for some conjurer of cheap tricks! I am not trying to rob you!!"

It is at this moment that Heather looks at me with her big blue eyes and says, "Ooooh, Santa Claus is maaaaaad!"

Needless to say, we had to pause the movie, as Mommy was in a fit of hysterics. Between that and both kids traipsing around on all fours in just their underwear imitating Gollum, I can, without a doubt, say that my kids crack me up.

The Nightly News-- Dilcher Style

This will give you more of an idea of the connection between twins....or at least mine. That connection enables them to feed off one another at the drop of a hat. They are so connected that then can create a show within minutes....seconds, even....of having the idea in their head. Case in point:

About three years ago, as we were just settling in on the couch for another evening in front of the tube, my husband began changing channels to see if the news was on. The TV screen went blank, there was a low hum and a loud pop, and then a burning smell. That nasty melting plastic smell that makes you want to pull the front of your shirt up to cover your nose and breathe out of your mouth. Then the smoke started. We quickly hit the power button and unplugged the smoldering beast to prevent a fire. As the kids and I sat in astonishment that this actually happened to us, my husband picked up the TV and took it out to the curb for the next garbage pickup. I quickly snapped out of my dazed stupor and opened the windows and got out the fan (even though it was only about 30 degrees out) to clear the smoke and the stink. Then we all sat down on the couch and stared at the blank space in the entertainment center where the TV was....now what?

Heather and Michael announced that they would be the entertainment that evening. They began to dance and sing, Vaudevillian style. My husband grabbed the remote and stated that he would rather watch sports. They dropped into football "hike" position and mimed a quick football game. I announced that I would rather watch a love story with lots of kissing. Michael said, "EEEEWWWW!" but he grabbed Heather and put his hand over her mouth and planted a loud mushy wet one as he dipped her. Click. Crocodile Hunter came on. Heather flopped on the floor, gnashing her teeth like a ferocious 16 foot croc, while Mike jumped on her back yelling, "Crikey, you're a grumpy girl!"

But the best of all was the last scenario. I clicked the remote and announced that it was time for the news. Despite the fact that they were exhausted from all this falderal, Mike dropped to his knees behind the coffee table, propped up his hands as if he was reading his notes, put a hand to his ear in order to hear the announcement in his ear bud better and in his most serious "news" voice announced, "There was an explosion at the Dilcher house this evening."

That, my friends, is the epitome of quick thinking.