no goldfinger and
nothing about chicks with nukes
guess we’re still OK

The wee one and I stopped by Sonic for some lunch today. (I know, I know, it’s bad for you but whatever. They have banana cream pie milkshakes.) In the wee one’s kids’ meal was a toy octopus which he has lovingly dubbed "Octopussy."

Now, I’m not sure if he’s ever heard of James Bond. He hasn’t seen any of the movies. And he hasn’t been introducing himself as "One… Wee One…" but I am slightly alarmed (though mostly amused) with this new and exciting development.

Has pop culture invaded our lives to such a degree that even 3-year-olds unknowingly make Andy Warhol-esque references while they play in the sandbox? Is this somehow VH1’s fault? Or maybe pop cultural references are genetically imprinted into the offspring of former slacker youth?

Ah, I really don’t care. I’m just looking forward to the looks I get from all the conservative suburban moms when my kid goes to the playground, approaches a young tyke and says, "I’ll be Anakin. You be Octopussy. Let’s play!"

That should get a rousing response.

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