Luke’s watching Ratatouille. I want to know who decided that a movie about a rat cooking would be entertaining. I’ve been assured that he washes his hands frequently. Now THAT’S comforting. Between the bulls with udders in Barnyard and the kitchen full of rats in Ratatouille I shudder to think what’s to become of the next generation. Lucky me, I get to listen to that bit of cinematic genius all the way to Florida in a couple of days.
Luke thinks it’s hysterical that the movie creeps me out and runs through the house screaming, “Rats in the kitchen! Rats in the kitchen!” Have I mentioned that my son has a really bizarre sense of humor?