My son beat me downstairs this morning and had taken possession of the TV remote before I could pick a channel for him. By the rapt attention he was paying to the television, I feared he had stumbled upon a skin flick or some blood and guts, totally age inappropriate programming.
He was watching a vacuum infomercial. With more interest than he'd ever shown during an episode of Spongeboob. (And, yes. I did mean to add that extra 'o'.)
"MOM! Did you see this?" he asks, as I come down the stairs. "It's AMAZING! Watch! WATCH! It picks up NAILS! And broken GLASS! And it bends so you can vacuum under beds!"
I've never vacuumed under a bed in my life and I don't intend to start now. And why can't you, you know, just pick up the nails? As for the broken glass? Any breakable item in our house had long been broken, so no problem there.
"And MOM! There's a secret button you push and all the stuff falls into the trash! Look! LOOK! You're going to miss it!"
"Wow, Nick. That's amazing. What do you want for breakfast?"
"MOM! You NEED one. Call that number! You get TWO for the PRICE OF ONE!"
Who are you, kid? Billie Mayes?
"I think our vacuum is fine. Do you want a waffle?"
"No! You need this one! It's AMAZING! LOOK! It bends! And it won't scratch the wall!"
I've never had a problem with my vacuum scratching the wall. Maybe I've been using it incorrectly.
"Why don't we watch "Oswald"?"
"NO! I'm watching this! IT'S AMAZING!"
I think I know what I'm getting the kid for Christmas this year.