A couple weeks ago my husband and I found ourselves with only one child at home. The oldest was at girl's camp, #2 and #4 were farmed out to some cousins. I thought it would be great to have an evening with just #3, and since I'd been dying to see HP5 for a second time, and #3 was dying to see if for the first time, it was a no brainer. We went to dinner first, then went to the movie. About half way through the movie--when I was enraptured--my husband leaned over to me and said "I'd rather be in a two and half hour sacrament meeting than here"
Then the other night we were watching TV and Larry King was interviewing one of the Spice Girls who just had Eddie Murphy's baby, before marrying someone else, oh and Eddie's married too I guess. Anyway, I commented how there had been a lot about the Spice Girls lately, specifically how Posh Spice was making the news as some soccer guy's wife.
"Some Soccer guy?" my husband said in abject disappointment. "Some Soccer guy? You mean Beckham, who is probably the most famous athlete in the entire world?"
"Hey, " I said in defense. "I don't follow soccer any more than you follow books. You probably don't even know who JK Rowling is."
"Sure I do, she's the lady that wrote about that stupid magic kid with the lame glasses."
I don't know how it happened, really. How is it that I've neglected his cognitive development to the point that he can call Harry Potter the stupid magic kid with the lame glasses. Somewhere along the way, despite my great love for this man, I have failed him. Woe is me.