Deliverance

Dan and I enjoyed an afternoon of pretending to be the parents of an only child today as we took Jack to see Toy Story 3. (The most convincing act was Jack's unadulterated greed.) My parents watched The Hamlet at our house so that we could fulfill Dan's Father's Day Wish (#1).

[Totally irrelevant to the story I've already started: Every time my parents babysit the kids they manage to find an installation of the Lethal Weapon franchise on the television to watch. It's uncanny--it is on EVERY TIME they've been here. And after they've left, their absence is heralded by Danny Glover and explosions. And children whining.]

I insisted that we arrive at the movie theater early to secure good seats, and even defied movie theater law by bringing sandwiches and cheese balls and a Coke refill in my hideously large purse. (I am a pro.) The movie was adorable, with the requisite laughter and tears, along with some excessively loud whispering from Jack, the novice movie-goer. As this is only his second venture to the Regal Cinema @ Beaver Creek (our favorite theater, also affectionately known as "The Regal Beav" as a nod to Three's Company), I was astounded at how well-behaved he was. The movie was predictable punctuated with teeny voices and cries, which, in my opinion, only made it more legitimate. (Funnily enough, as a parent, I don't usually get upset when other children misbehave, only my own. Sometimes, secretly, I take tangible pleasure when other children misbehave as it affirms my belief that IT CAN HAPPEN TO ANYONE.)

Everyone loved the movie, all snacks were consumed, and as we headed home, Jack inquired if he could "have a treat since I was so good at the movies."

Dan, not one to be easily duped, replied, "Ahh, no. Your treat was going to the movie."

"That was YOUR treat." Jack said pointedly.

"Look, a cow!" I exclaimed, hoping to diffuse the escalating treat embargo.

The topic eventually was switched as Dan mentioned that he wanted to call his Dad when we got home.

"Your Dad is at our house already," Jack told him.

"That is MY dad," I explained. "Grandpa, who lives in Maryland, is Daddy's dad."

"Uh, no. Pop-Pop is Daddy's dad and your dad."

(Gross.)

"Who is Leslie's Dad then?"

"She doesn't have one. Or a mom." (This explains a lot, I thought.)

"Jack, Pop-Pop has two kids--Leslie, and me."

"You're not a kid!" Jack cackled. "You're a big girl!"