In the quandaries of life there are so many important decisions.
For my love, my husband, my "thank God he met me or his anti-social side would result in him living in a 1 BR nasty apartment littered with spare computer parts" few movies mean more than Star Wars.
If I had a nickel for every time he has asked me when Ben should finally get to watch the almighty, I would really not need to go back to work.
Alas.... this is what Ben chose to have his face painted at Bill's work party Tuesday night.
I on the other hand:
1. Asked Bill why he let Ben pick a demon not knowing this was a Star Wars character?
2. Informed him (loudly) that he was doing bath time.... ALONE.
3. Was thinking, well that's a sucktastic anniversary gift to me.
Once home, Ben proceeded to stand in front of the mirror until I had to threaten to take away his Christmas book growling, hissing, and spitting as he told me he was "the Star Wars"
No character in particular, just "the Star Wars" He went on to tell me that he now only wants Star Wars toys for Christmas.
I hate you Bill.
So much for my past 12 month plan of convincing Ben that he really wanted the aircraft carrier and 5 Hot Wheels Trick Tracks that have been occupying space in the attic that I got on a mega sale. Even my lame attempt over the fall to take pictures of things I convinced him to ask for (see items above) and send them to Santa in an email are now toally wasted.
Damn you Bill.
Bill has decided to let Ben watch Star Wars with him something soon and he is going to let Santa rummage through the multiple boxes (like think 5) of Bill's old toys (think 40 Year old Virgin) and leave something under the tree.
Bill has organized a gaggle of like-minded folk for a midnight showing of TRON tonight. I seriously hope he enjoys it because I told his boss at the party (who I actually know, I'm not that weird to call him out to a stranger) to give him total Hell on Friday am when he shows up exhausted tired.
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