Old School meets New School.

*Warning: Completely nonmedically related and totally random post ahead.
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"I hope and pray that I will, but today I am still just a bill. . ."

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The Manning household believes in giving our kids a sho' nuff taste of the old school. Here's what we have been doing over here with our Sunday evening since finishing dinner and bathtime. . .

Whaaaaat???? What y'all know about that?

Oh yeah, baby. . . . thanks to YouTube, we've been rocking out to some classic School House Rock.


Real quick for the thirty-somethings and up--am I the only one who learned the preamble to the Constitution, the difference between a bill and a law, and all my parts of speech from these infectious little jingles? Tell me you didn't recite the preamble in a high school Civics class while pretending like you weren't singing the words to this:



You know you did. If you didn't, you are
a) not old school at all
b) somebody who grew up without a television on in your house on Saturday mornings,
c) not from this country, or
d) all of the above.

Awww. Is that you?

Okay, then let me school house rock you. This is how the Saturday ritual went down back in the day at least in my neighborhood:

• Every Saturday you woke up waaaay before your parents.
• You stumbled into the kitchen and poured yourself a giant bowl of Trix, Frankenberry, Cocoa Puffs, Sugar Corn Pops, Honeycomb, Frosted Flakes, Cap'n Crunch, or Apple Jacks.
• If your mama was on that "no sugar" kick (like ours periodically was) you instead poured a bowl of Rice Krispies or Kellogg's Corn Flakes OR-- as Harry just told me to add--that generic black and white box of just "Corn Flakes"--followed by ten heaping tablespoons of sugar that your mama had no idea you'd be slurping from the bottom of the bowl later. (Sorry, Mom.)
• You carefully carried that big-a bowl into the den, sat it on the coffee table, and then turned on the TV. (Remember when it had to warm up first?)
• Because there was only one channel with cartoons playing, even if you had several siblings, nobody ever argued over what to watch.
• Once the TV was on, you'd go back to grab the big-a bowl of now soggy cereal and sit criss cross applesauce on the floor.
• You watched cartoons from 8 AM to noon--moving only for the bathroom and to top off your cereal, after which, cartoons promptly were replaced by made for TV movies or sports.
• You did your chores.
• Your mama told you to go outside to play. For the day.
• You came back when the street lights came on.
• Oh, one caveat: If you played sports on Saturdays, you went to your game after cartoons.
• Then, when you got back, your mama told you to go outside and play. For the day.
• And you still came back when the street lights came on after riding your bike God knows where without a helmet and with a younger sibling holding onto the back of the banana seat and a next door neighbor riding on the tasseled handle bars.

Insert six year old on back (turned backwards), insert seven year old me riding, insert seven year old on handle bars.

Yeah, man. Four hours of cartoons pretty much on Saturday only and that was it. This is pre-PBSkids, pre-Disney Channel. . . .pre-cable! I'm talking bunny ears on top of the TV that sat on top of the other TV that was broken. (Y'all don't know nothin' bout the old school, man!)

But I'm sayin'. . . the Manning boys? Oh, they will know old school when the see it.

Starting with School House Rock. Here's our three favorites:







And I'm sayin' -- Zachary Manning? Oh he WILL bust out in song with any one of the above jams completely unsolicited. Especially "Interjections." Public places included. (I always feel proud when folks look at him all impressed-like at his knowledge of such old school cartoon classics.)

::smile::

Unfamiliar with the old school? That's okay. Get familiar--starting with School House Rock. And if you haven't already. . . get your kids familiar, too. (I'm just sayin'.)

The noun song. . . .


. . .but sayin' all those nouns over and over can really wear you down. . .


Zachary and I always hug each other at the end of this one. . . .



Darn! That's the end!

(Consider yourself School House Rocked.)