Curious George...

Well, today was Monday. Which means it is my one day of the week to celebrate masculinity with Jake and Brady. You know, lots of booger and poop talk and wrasslin' around the house. Just the boys. Good times. Anyway, I had another one of my infamously bright ideas. "Let's go see Curious George when Mommy gets home." Sure. Right. Like it's that simple.

Brady has never been to a movie in a theater and Jake has been 2 or 3 times. If you know Brady you know why. He's a bit more controllable now, so I thought I would chance it. Wait, controllable is not the right word. Predictable. That's better. He's a mess, count on it.

Anyhoo, Cindy got home for lunch and was unfairly confronted with the information that Daddy had indeed promised a trip to the movies later. Being the ever doting mother she reassuringly smiled at the boys and shot me a backhanded look that said,"Nice work, moron." She is used to me. What can I say?

So skip ahead to the show. Fortunately, I grossly overestimated the amount of time we would need to get there. We were 40 minutes early, and the only ones in the theater. We've got our smuggled M&M's, water, etc., cleverly tucked away in the diaper-backpack-thingy. We took our seats. When I say we, I mean Cindy and I. Jake and Brady thought it would be more fun to run laps up, down and all around the auditorium. OK. Tire yourselves out. Except, they don't get tired. They just keep going. How?

After 25 minutes or so, a few other people show up so it was time to hunker down. The lights finally got low, and the boys' eyes got huge. Brady was loving it. Squealing that nasally little squeal and laughing at the previews. Jake was more amused by Brady than what was on the screen. We all were.

The movie was pretty good. Not "gotta buy it on DVD" good, but still. Half way through, Jake spilled an Icee on himself. Sooo, he watched the rest of the film sans shirt. Funny stuff. The boys both hung in there with the flick and made it to the end without any major complaints. That's all I can ask for.

I had visions of Brady leaping over the seatbacks, and terrorizing other patrons with dinosaur growls. He surprised me and made me proud. Not that he doesn't make me proud anyway, but you know...

There's a different sort of pride when your child behaves in public as opposed to when they execute a perfect flying takedown on their older brother. And then Jake, not freaking about the Icee incident. Plus, reaching over and holding Brady's arm out of tenderness and not malice. Well, dadgummit it's the little things that count the most. Jake, Brady....I love you. You little cheeseballs.