Still trying to recover from a wonderful but exhausting Thanksgiving week, I pop Fantasia on for the first time in many years, so many that the 12-year-old is the youngest to remember it.
Top Management keeps muttering "Leopold! Leopold!" in wonder and awe.
The 7-year gasps when the Sugar Plum Fairies appear and doesn't seem to realize she's singing along with the entire Nutcracker Suite.
The 4-year-old could not possibly care less about Bach's Toccata and Fugue in d minor, but gets sucked in by the sadly racist "Chinese Dance." Which means he's totally ready for The Sorcerer's Apprentice.
I keep an eye on him because it's late enough that I fear nightmares—as in, I tremble in fear at the idea of him having one in the middle of the night; he gets up to use the bathroom at least a few times a week, and that's more than enough of a interruption to my meagre sleep as is.
And sure enough, his grip on the lego stack he's holding keeps getting tighter and tighter the worse things become for ol' Mickey, and his eyebrows are drawn down lower and lower. Finally, at exactly 9:01 of the embedded clip, the boy can't take it anymore, and he yells at the screen in anguish and anger at the mouse's obliviousness:
"Take off the hat!"
Which never even occurred to me. But of course probably would have worked. And then he (maybe) wouldn't have gotten busted.
I'm impressed and disturbed by his insight and deviousness.