All was right with the world tonight as Amelia and I snuggled under the comforter and watched the first two episodes of series 3 Doctor Who.
Except… and this troubles me greatly…
Amelia is one of those people. “Why is he doing that?” “Why did he say that?” “That was so funny! He said XYZ and then she said XYZ – ”
“Yes, sweetie,” I said. “I was right here. Watching it with you.”
Yep, she’s a talker. A person who will ask “why are they doing that?” when if she’d just shut up and watch she’d find out why. Let the telly do the work for you!
It’s no surprise really as my mother, who claims not to enjoy television because “your father always has to have it so gosh darn loud,” is a nodder. My mother has perfect posture and will sit on the edge of the sofa and stare very seriously at the television and nod along with the dialogue, giving her tacit approval. It’s distracting.
“Why do you do that?” I’ve asked on more than one occassion. “That nodding thing.” And she would glare at me and stomp out of the room. “This is why I don’t enjoy television,” she’d snap, and inevitably I’d get myself in trouble by engaging her with, “I thought it was because of the volume.”
So back to Amelia….
“Why are those kids doing that?” she asked during the teaser.
“They probably want her to jump,” I said.
“Honey, have you been watching the show?”
“Yes. But why did she disappear and appear in the Tardis?”
“Maybe if you pay attention to it you’ll find out.”
“I was thinking that if Cleo Patra was really buried in the neighboring town that Doctor Who put her there to thwart grave robbers.”
“You do know he’s not real, right?”
“Duh. Hey! Why is she mad that they started the party without her? Why do they have parties after weddings?”
“Can we have something other than burritos for breakfast tomorrow?”
“I wonder if Doctor Who has a sonic toaster. Who are those plastic Santa men? Why are they pointing their tuba at The Doctor?”
“I wish David Tennant wouldn’t age until I was like… 14 or something. I don’t like boys but when I start liking boys I think I’m going to like him.”
I had to leave the room and force Jack to watch it in the living room, which wasn’t so bad apart from the occassional derisive snort.
“What,” I demanded during a commercial, “is your problem? Why do you keep snorting?”
He snorted again, then gathered his things. “And where are you going?!” I asked.
“To the basement,” he said. “You keep nodding and it’s driving me insane.”