Miles and I watched The Chronicles of Narnia last night. I should have waited ten years.
We cried though the last 30 minutes. This morning Miles asked to never rent such a sad movie again.
But he also asked what kidnapping was. (In the film, the faun Tumnus tells Lucy he's kidnapping her.)
Once I defined child abduction, I told my four-year-old if anyone stole him or his brother, that I'd look for them forever and I'd never give up my search until I found my boys.
"You know what I'd do if someone tidnapped me? I'd tick him in the penis."
Oh, I told my son, I remember when I tried to kick someone in the penis. I was in fourth grade and my target was my good-natured classmate Tommie Smith. Tommie was prepared for my attack. With ease he grabbed my leg mid-kick and threw me off balance.
You gotta think twice about the crotch kick, I warned Miles.
"Well then you know what I'd do? I'd throw the tidnapper in the swimming pool and I would tick his mother in the penis. And then, I'd pick up the swimming pool and turn it upside-down so all the water would splash down on their heads..." My boy became unintelligible as his speech dissolved in his laughter.
I like plowing through tough topics with my kids while they still have cute lisps.

We had a playdate this afternoon with friends who speak with British accents.
While at their house, in their kitchen, the mom spotted some to-mah-to sauce on her youngest son's cheek. I made no comment about my friend Angela's pronunciation. She and her husband bandy a lot of words rarely heard stateside. They also carry a tradition that I thought had met extinction: their kids request to be excused from the table after a meal.
Back at our batcave, one minute ago, Miles looked out our kitchen window and asked,
"When we wake up to-mah-to morning, will the snow be sticky?"
And a few minutes before that, when Miles finished dinner, he asked "May I please be mis-tused?"

"Careful," I warned Miles as he was about to spoon some shredded Asiago cheese into his baby brother's mouth, "this cheese might be too sharp for a 15-month-old."
Miles examined the cheese shreds.
"Yeah, they do look pointy."

Are we in New Hampster?
We traveled to Jefferson, New Hampshire, last month to visit Santa's Village. We had such a good time that New Hampster is the new destination of choice.

What's more beautiful to you, tree leaves or the mustang car?
Leaves. You?
I choose mustang. Cause it's a race car.
I started to defend my answer. I chatted up leaves' role in helping us breathe, their great shapes, the beauty in their colorful death, their veiny parts, their crunch under our shoes.
Wait no I change my answer. Both are beautiful, right mom?
Then I thought about the shape of Mustang fenders. I contemplated the complexity of car engines, auto plant production lines, and how many humans and robots put together a car. And I said Yes, you are right son.