I love netflix. I love instant netflix streaming to my computer while I fold endless onesies and burpcloths. Matching the socks just wouldn't get done, not by me, without it. And streaming to the xbox, a Disney cartoon or classic short (Pink Panther - my kids love it) enables me to shower, occasionally. If Baby spit-up monster is sleeping. And once or twice a week we watch a movie mailed to our house, and returned through our mailbox, or a few episodes of a worthy tv series. It is very convenient, I must admit.
Yesterday my son helped me mail off our latest Netflix movie... I pulled it out of the player and put it in the envelope, sealed it and Ethan Jr. put on his shoes and raced me to the mailbox to shove it through the little opening. Aedan loves the mini-walks.
Today I opened the DVD player to put in Newsies - my kids had never seen it, and Santa brought it this year (well, last year). There, in the player, was the movie from Netflix.
"Mommy, we couldn't find the DVD from the library - Mommy do you know where it is?" Bethany and Bekah chimed in with strange awareness of my predicament .
"Yes." I turned, horrified, to my husband. I held up the Netflix DVD, and he chuckled as I ran to call customer service in the hopes of getting the library's DVD back. He's come to expect things like this over the years.
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