A Date with the Nephew

We took my precocious nephew (referenced previously) and K’s very quiet, very sweet 14-year-old niece for dinner and a movie this evening. The following story puts a fine point on the exchange from the preceding post and may explain a lot for the reading audience.

[We are driving in the car on the way to dinner. I am driving, K is riding shotgun, C and K2, nephew and niece, are riding in the backseat.]

C: “Knock, knock.”

Me: “Who’s there?”

C: “Alaska”

Me: “Alaska who?”

C: “Alaska to shut the door one last time!” [erupts into laughter and is joined by me
and the other victims riding in the car]

C: “What do you call cheese that doesn’t belong to you?”

Me: “I don’t know, what do you call it?”

C: “Na-cho cheese! [erupts again into laughter that is joined with hesitation by me and the other victims in the car] Get it??!??! NOT YOUR cheese?!?!?! Like – it is not yo’ cheese?!?!?!?" [more laughter eruptions]

Me: “You shouldn’t have to explain the punch line.” [Cedric continues to laugh]

C: “Yeah, but it’s NOT YOUR cheese. So what do you call chips that don’t belong to you?”

Me: “Na-cho chips. [no laughter] Get it??!??! NOT YOUR chips?!?!?! Like – it is not yo’ chips?!?!?!?” [we both laugh and the other victims in the car join in]

C: “I got it – it’s just the same as not ‘yo cheese.” [we laugh and the other victims in the car chortle uncomfortably]

K: “You know, the apple really doesn’t fall far from the tree.”

Me: “I know, he is just like his father.”

Anyhow, we went to see Ratatouille. It was a delightful film that outlasted the attention span of everyone in the theatre under the age of 20 by about 20 minutes or so. The story line also seemed a little esoteric for most young ‘uns. It is about a rat who wants to become the greatest chef in Paris. I think you have to bring quite a bit to the party to get totally on board with that story. I mean, I myself was a hard core Iron Chef © fan when I used to do the whole TV gig, and that yummy Rachel Ray appears to be at a zenith of popularity, but I don’t know that “chef” is taught as part of the career day curriculum at most schools.

C had already seen Spiderman 3 (twice), Shrek 3, Fantastic Four and the Silver Surfer (and yes, it must be referred to thusly every single time it is talked about), and any other plausible seven-year-old boy films, so that is how we ended up at Ratatouille. Having grown up in the age of “The Secret of Nimh,” I was just glad for the opportunity to re-visit the image of rats in theatrical performances. I think this film should do wonders for their image.