Momnesia

Harry Potter Lives!

Proof that we watch way too much Harry f-ing Potter in our house surfaced today, when my 23-month-old daughter requested "Hey Pah-Pah" and I popped in "The Chamber of Secrets" (or, as my brother called them when he was three years old, "see-cruds").

When the scene where Harry Potter arrives at the Weasley's house came on, Emerson stood up to watch it. Julie Walters bursts in as Molly Weasley: "Where HAVE you been?!"
-"bin!" Emerson chimes in, grinning at me, palms up inquisitively.
What the hell?

"No note! Car gone!" Walters half-shrieks.
"No noh! Cah goh!" Emerson mimics, hands on her hips.
Oh, god.

"You could have died! ("diyah!") You could have been seen!" ("seeeeend!")
"They were starving him, Mom. There were bars on his windows," her on-screen son replies. "Deys a bar on da weeennow!" Emerson echoes, then turns to me and begins to shake her finger back and forth.
(groan)

"You best hope that I don't put bars on your windows, Ronald Weasley!" Walters-as-Weasley finishes triumphantly.
"Yooo binna habba duhbuh weeenow!" Emerson warns me. "Ohr, tiyam out!"
Well, at least she understand the consequences of misbehaving: the dreaded time-out.