I looked forward all weekend to watching "E.T." with my daughter tonight. We talked about it and talked about it, but the entire time leading up to actually watching the movie, I feared she wouldn't actually follow through and watch the entire thing. Sure enough, she made it through about the first half hour and then proceeded to complain that she wanted to watch something else. Pretty much just as expected. Although I'm disappointed, I understand. I think I've learned that the things that were meaningful to me in my childhood don't always transfer to my kids', as much as I'd like it to. What I've also learned is that even though the experience generally doesn't come off as I'd like, it doesn't diminish my own experience any. I still get the kick watching as I did all those decades ago. I still feel child-like, and I still feel awed and in wonder.
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