Over a lovely meal of left-over ham, rice and salad, Ryan and I tried to have a conversation.
Elizabeth started with, "Do you like mice, mom?"
"Um, mostly just in stories," I replied. I don't like the wild kind, or the kind in cages, so that leaves some of the fictitious ones.
"I killed a Desperaux today," Ryan started in. This was greeted by exclamations of, "Ew," "Where?" and, "How?" "Well, I was in the greenhouse and this mouse just jumped at me. So I hit it in the air-"
"You hit it? You know, most people when attacked by something nasty flying at their head, will move out of the way," I told him. Frisbees, balls, socks, Polly Pockets, whatever- I duck. Too many bad experiences with getting hit with flying objects, especially in the head.
"Well, yah. It was coming at me, so I hit it. It hit the greenhouse fan, the fan blade kinda cut off its tale and beat it to death. (insert groans here) But when I commented about killing 'Despereaux' to my class, no one got it." Ryan feels pretty proud of himself for knowing this. He can thank the kids (and me) for getting to listen to books on cd in the van.
"That seems funny that no one would get the reference, since it was made into a movie too," I said.
Emma wailed, "I want to see it! Why don't we ever get to see any movies?"
"You did see it. We rented it when it came out on dvd."
"Nuh uh. I would remember!"
Sigh. You can't argue with Emma. She. Is. Always. Right. Just ask her.
I just love trying to talk to Ryan during dinner.