So it's Saturday night. Which for the past several years has meant the boys go to bed at more or less the regular time, the Golden Weasel sneaks into Top Management's studio for art night — which often means them trying out some new painting technique together...but has occasionally also meant they cuddle up and watch knitting videos or something equally horrific — and whichever of the oldest three are home and I watch...something. Sometimes it's a film (or the first half of one) and sometimes it's the installment of a television show: Arrow or E.R. or something like that. In years past it's been The West Wing or Firefly or The Wire. (No, not really The Wire.) One of our defaults is Law & Order, because it's vital for a young citizen to learn that in the criminal justice system, the people are represented by two separate but equally important groups: the police, who investigate crime, and the district attorneys, who prosecute the offenders, and these are their stories. [dun dun]
We watch the opening and, as usual, discuss how cold and jaded Lenny's bot mot is, until the theme song starts playing.
As usual, The Rose begins to shimmy to Mike Post's theme. But, unusually, earlier in the day, she'd gotten a flu shot, so she's not laying down on the couch. She's sitting up. Which somehow inhibits her dancing style.
"I can’t sit down so my wiggles are different," she says.
I look at her.
"Wiggles are very dependent upon positioning," she explains.
"If you were ten years younger, that would be a Thicklebit," I point out.
But she's not ten years younger.
So it goes here instead.
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