Last night Giovanna (sister), The Kiwi (chosen sister) and I went to see Mamma Mia.
I wanted to love it.
With everything I had heard telling me how fabulous it was I knew I should love it.
The trailers I had watched convinced me I would love it.
The colours in it begged me to love it.
The obvious fun they all had making it enticed me to love it.
And that stunning scenery demanded I should love it.
I didn't love it.
I liked it.
I sang along with it.
I cried at it.
I laughed out loud at it once or twice. (It wasn't even his actual singing voice but the tension and stress in Pierce Brosnan's face that had me in stitches).
But I didn't love it.
It left me feeling quite pensive and a little saddened.
I wanted to come home and, once we had moved to the Greek island paradise, lock my babies away inside my home and keep them safe forever.
I want to watch it again.