Last night I was on the couch writing while my daughter watched ye olde Charlie’s Angels. Now, she has watched a bit of TV over her eight years, and she reads a great deal, so I do expect her to occasionally see where simple plots are headed. What happened last night was a bit different, and rather stunning.
The scene had the Angels are chasing a hood on foot. The bad boy with large perm runs up to a bike stand and steals a bicycle, Angels and Boz in close pursuit.
“Watch,” my daughters says, “There’ll be just enough bikes for all of them.”
Sure enough, there were four bikes remaining for the Angels and The Boz to mount.
Now I know the writers for Charlie’s Angels weren’t writing high drama, and there were a lot of bouncing boobs and short shorts to conceal plot holes a grown-up man (oxymoron, anyone?) might fall for, but still!
She’s only eight, and picked it up so fast and uttered her observation so easily I barely heard her.
I despair of when she’s old enough to read my profanity-riddled work and tells me, with a roll of her eyes, “Dad, did you have to? It was soooo obvious where you were going with that!”