Let the Wild Rumpus Start!

Oh joy of joys, I cannot wait to see Where the Wild Things Are.

My friend Bird and I spent many an afternoon (when we weren't watching The Outsiders) rumpusing about our respective backyards and neighborhood parks creating imaginary worlds like Max, king of all wild things. We were siamese twins, connected at the arm with imaginary velcro, business women in the tree "office" outside my church, and castle-dwellers on the rocks of the park that overlooked Long Island Sound.

Jacob is another lover of all things Sendak, as well as anything imaginary. Lately, I wake up to his recitations from his crib:

"Milk in da batter, milk cake. . .Mickey!" (In the Night Kitchen)
"Chicken rice. . .whale. . . cocodile, chicken nile" (Chicken Soup with Rice from The Nutshell Library)
"Wumpus. . .tart!" (Where the Wild Things Are)

It is my favorite version of the human alarm clock to date.

We've been talking about this movie enough that Jacob says, "Wild Things? Moo-bie?" on a near daily basis. However, everything I read tells me that this is so not for the little ones. So do I potentially traumatize my child in favor of my own childish want? Or get a babysitter who may charge me $50 so I can see a movie on opening night? What say yee, internet?