I recently watched Guardians of the Galaxy, Volume 2 on Netflix. I love the characters, their in-fighting and their many flaws. And, Chris Pratt is not hard to look at, either.
But one scene, amazingly, was very similar to my everyday life. If you haven’t watched the movie, SPOILER ALERT!!!
Baby Groot, the only one of their band who is free on a space ship full of outlaws, is the only hope to help Yondu & Rocket Raccoon escape. They only need Groot to bring Yondu his prototype fin to replace his original fin, which was destroyed by the Ravagers. They describe it in intricate detail, and Groot returns with a desk, a small live animal, a severed toe–even Yondu’s underwear–everything BUT the needed fin!
Asking my five-year-old son to bring me something is so much like this…
My two year old daughter had fallen asleep on my lap in my chair, or getting it myself would have been the least painful course of action.
“Honey, can you bring me my phone?”
No response; my young man didn’t even look up.
“Can you bring me my phone?” I asked again, pointing at it. “It’s on the end table, by the couch.”
My son, turned in circles, looked right at the couch, not seeing it, and handed me a tissue. I am Groot.
“No. It’s on the far end table, baby.”
“What’s an ‘end table’?” I am Groot.
He reached down on the floor, found a toy car, and started to bring it to me.
“Honey, that’s not my phone.”
He shrugged and handed me the toy car. I am Groot.
“Honey! Mommy really needs her phone!”
“Where is it?” he asked, trying to hand me a Parenting magazine.
“On the end table, by the couch.”
“What’s an ‘end table’?”
“The TABLE at the END of the couch.”
“What?” Turned and looked at couch, not seeing or comprehending the word “table.” I am Groot .
“The TABLES. At the END of the COUCH. There are two of them! See, two?” I shook my head at the proffered water bottle.
Blank look, twirling resumed, “What?” I am Groot.
“THE TABLES! AT THE END OF THE COUCH! DO YOU SEE THE COUCH?”
“AT EACH SIDE, LIKE THE END, THERE ARE TABLES. ONE IS FULL OF JUNK. LOOK AT THE OTHER ONE. NOT THAT ONE! THE EMPTY ONE!”
Deep breath. My daughter, used to a loud house, slept soundly during this exchange.
“Yes. That thing there. My phone is on it.”
He stopped twirling.
“Please bring me my phone.”
He skipped to the far end table, and brought me a Christmas card from my friend in Canada.
“Right place, wrong object. My phone?” So close.
He returned with my phone. He is Groot!
Thankfully, he has never brought me a severed toe (no comments on underwear).
Was he playing me, or is five years akin to, “I am Groot”? What do you think?