A few months ago I was with the boys upstairs at our local Barnes and Noble. It’s a solid weekend favorite when coupled with a visit to the Apple Store and Nerf gun gazing at Tom’s Toys.
So we’re headed down to the checkout and as Nate passes a display he declares, “Censored!” and turns a paperback romance novel around to hide the sordid cover art. As usually happens, I catch the snicker of a male twenty-something employee who happens to watch this go down. A similar scenario takes place at the checkout, where we’re faced with a magazine cover graced by an artfully posed, nude pregnant model.
Meanwhile Jurassic World has risen from the ashes of the early 90’s. My four-year-old nephew apparently watched the movies and declared them not too scary. I scream to differ after many nights of T-Rex heart attacks. Nate and Jake claim they’re not scared and haven’t had any nightmares. Last night we had an unexpected thunder and lightning storm and James claims he was dreaming about a dinosaur growling before he woke-up.
As we’ve made our way through all four Jurassic movies, I plug my ears and cover my face during the heart-pounding scary parts. But not the boys…
They only cover their faces during the kissing parts.