but it turned out it meant really cramped quarters where mom, Sylvia and I essentially played Twister to maneuver around each other in the bedroom and that we had to escort mom in the dark of night to find the bathroom so she wouldn’t slip and fall on the rocks...
Indeed the number of links you received to get you to the wild things trailer sometime back in April/May is a fine indicator of just how many white people you know. And definitely the common complaint that the book was better than the movie, that’s a white person complaint. Very common...