As an incentive to the kids doing their nightly routine (brush teeth, change diaper, regrout the bathroom tiles), Emma and Andrew get to watch 10 minutes of television in our bedroom. Usually we pop in a Disney video and let them watch a few choice scenes from The Princess & the Frog, Cars, or Pulp Fiction (Miramax was a Disney film division).
This particular night was a multimedia event because not only was the television on, but Auntie Anne (pretzel maven) was video chatting with the kids. Or at least attempting to because the kiddies were too entranced by the antics of Tiana, Lightning McQueen, and Vincent & Jules.
Soon the kids lost all interest in Auntie Anne's (pretzel maven) fascinating story about switching from sea salt to kosher salt on her delicious bagels. Sadly for Lisa, she was roped into a conversation with Auntie Anne.
As Lisa and my sister were talking about their obsession with Justin Bieber, Emma started to look very irritated. She scooted closer to the end of the bed trying to listen to the words coming out of the television; she did not hear what a Royale with Cheese was.
In all seriousness, Emma turned towards to Lisa, put her left hand in Lisa's face, and said, "Don't talk!"
Lisa tried to withhold her shock and laughter. "Emma! What did you say?"
"Don't talk!" Emma repeated. Furthermore she added, "I can't hear television!"
Ah, to be young and able to get away with such language. The last time I said that to Lisa, I was in traction for eight weeks.
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