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The kids and I are sitting in a pizza shop for lunch, when Lovely Girl looks up and sees a story on television about Donald Trump's flirtation with a run for President in 2012. "Seriously?" she said. "Why would he run? And who would vote for Donald Trump? He does, like, reality shows and stuff." 

I give her my best guess: "Why run? Because he has the money to do so. And because he thinks he can do a better job than anyone else." As for who would vote for him, I say I don't know who would, but I know I wouldn't. 

Then Handsome Boy says, "So, who do you want to be President next time?" 

Fair question, and not one I can rattle off without some thought. Finally I say, "I don't have a particular person in mind. But I know I want a President who wants to do a good job, and who can do a good job, and who cares for our country, and who will do the right things to make our country better for all of us."

Handsome Boy is quiet for a minute. "I know who it could be," he says, his face brightening. "Chuck Norris! He could do a good job. We should vote for him for President."

Lovely Girl perks up. "Yeah! Plus, nobody would dare cross Chuck Norris."

"And," Handsome Boy says, "he'd always do the right thing, because that's what Chuck Norris does."

He may have a point.

Chuck, are you listening?

So. Lovely Girl comes home from school the other day, talking a blue streak before the front door even closes behind her. It's a whole stream-of-consciousness thing, starting with homeroom and moving through the entire rest of her day. In fact, she doesn't appear to be breathing in between sentences. 


She stomps toward the kitchen, shedding her backpack, lunchbag, and coat as she makes her way down the hall, ranting the whole time. The longer she rants, the faster she talks. The faster she talks, the more I begin to think that I am quite possibly witnessing a very impressive stint of circular breathing. 


I am secretly impressed by this spectacle. 


When she finally does takes a breath, it is only to launch into a much louder and more exasperated diatribe, during which I catch the word "boys," and then this: 


Lovely Girl: I mean, they have their own language!"
Me: Who does?
Lovely Girl: This group of boys at school.
Me: Oh. Their own language?
Lovely Girl: Yeah. [rolling her eyes] They made it up. They say things like, "Ex-squeeze me."
Me (snickering): Um, no. They didn't.
Lovely Girl: Um, yes. They did.
Me: I mean, no, they didn't make that up. That's from Wayne's World. Back in the 90's. 
Lovely Girl (cringing): What?


I opened my laptop and pulled up YouTube, and found the Wayne's World Aerosmith episode (classic!), and a few other clips. I watched Lovely Girl as she watched the clips. Her face was equal parts horrified (that her friends were totally copying stuff from her parents' generation...and liked it) and entertained ('cause, you know, Wayne's World is funny).