To see or even hear the movie “Wizard of Oz” makes me physically ill. I’ve been hating it for several months because my three year old, Finn, has watched it well over 100 times, sometimes wanting to have it played as background noise three times a day.
The final straw was today when the following conversation took place:
Darby: “Owww, he hit me with a bat (plastic).”
Me: “Finn, don’t hit your sister.”
Finn: “You better hush, or I’ll make a beehive out of you.”
When he is quoting the Wicked Witch of the West in the form of a threat to ME, I think it’s time to pull the plug on that movie. Now, I just have to figure out a way to make it painlessly disappear.

