Let go of my Mojo

My little slumdogs. Tell me

it doesn't look like she has

slumdog millionaire-girl hair. AND

he's 2! Shouldn't he be done drooling

at this point?

Last night, John and I watched Slumdog Millionaire. I had to trade him a movie in order to get him to watch it with me. Soon I will have to watch No Country for Old Men, a movie based on a novel by Cormac McCarthy, a man whose novels and movies I generally avoid on principle.

Before the opening credits, the 21st Century Fox music filled the room. As it was playing, there was the sudden pitter-patter of little feet up scurrying to the top of the stairs. John immediately knew what was going on. "They think we're watching Star Wars," he said. If you do not think of the Star Wars theme right after you hear the 21st Century Fox music, I'm afraid the force is probably not with you.

We had to explain to Caleb that no, we weren't watching Star Wars without him, that we do not generally wait until he goes to bed to watch Star Wars, and WHY THE HECK WAS HE STILL AWAKE ANYWAYS? He seemed appeased and actually appeared a bit sheepish. He promptly went to sleep.

After the 21st Century Fox music came the Warner Brothers Music, which is really the music to "As Time Goes By." Ella started squacking in her crib because SHE though we were watching Casablanca without her. She has a thing for Humphrey Bogart. I know this because she often babbles "Bogie bogie bogie bogie..."

This weekend, we took our annual treck out to Medina to say hello to the very blue Thomas the Tank Engine. John took the boys on the train ride while I sat with Ella in the van, where she snoozed peacefully. Then the worst thing happened. The horrible thing I hoped would never happen. I locked my baby girl in the car on a muggy, sunshine-filled day.

You know what I learned from that experience? That it is positively frightening how fast the police are able to break into our mini-van. Ella never woke up. The staff from A Day Out at Thomas and the police were so efficient that I didn't even have time to cling to the window of the van and choke out remorseful sobs of woe. It was amazing and I am extremely grateful to them.

After we hobnobbed with Thomas, Sir Topham Hat, and the Medina police department, we ventured off to Rudy's diner in downtown Medina. John ordered a Mojo burger, the diner's specialty. On the wall, the waitstaff has written the names of those who have finished what we thought were five Mojo burgers in a row. Turns out you get your name written on the wall if you finish ONE Mojo burger. You get a t-shirt if you eat five. You don't even have to eat them on the same day! In fact, I think it's illegal in the state of New York to eat more than one in the same day.

The burger came and was quite large. As the waitress approached our table, a hush fell over the diner. "Oooooh... he ordered the Mojo!" we heard people murmur. John felt pressure to finish it, which he did, and I'm hoping he'll wake up from the coma brought on by the pound of beef he ingested within a couple of days.

Daniel also ate a Mojo burger. And a grilled cheese sandwich, a large shake, and some fries. He's a growing boy, you know.

Ben had something else on his mind.

Can you guess it was?

1/2 pure Mojo

Look! John's famous! The circle drawing next to his name is not the Greek symbol Theta, but a depiction of a burger. And I don't know who Mike Boorom is, but I do know one thing.

He's kind of a pig.