We bought The Incredibles on DVD while we were out last night. It’s a good flick if you haven’t seen it. Typical Pixar, which is to say, “good stuff”. The Jack-Jack Attack short on the extras disk is pretty good. It’s about what happens to the babysitter when the rest of the family leaves Jack-Jack at home to chastise/rescue Mr. Incredible.
Berta told Abby that this DVD is a “real” copy of the movie, not the BitTorrent mpeg version that I’ve been playing on the mod-chipped XBox all this time. I followed up her comment by saying, “Yeah, and this one probably doesn’t say ‘Property of Disney and Pixar - No Not Duplicate’.” But Berta was quick to reply, “This one probably does say, ‘Do not duplicate’.” Come to think of it, it probably says “Property of Disney and Pixar” too, so what exactly did I buy here?
We subsequently discussed Abby’s super powers. After some thought, I’ve concluded that her super powers are many:
- The ability to look like she's eating, but not actually be eating.
- No pair of pants is tight or tall enough to contain her butt crack.
- Her powers of being a distraction are unmatched.
- By sheer intuition she can determine the best place to stand still to cause the most mayhem.
I think she would simply prefer to be Dash and run around at super-fast speed, which she often demonstrates inside the house. She has also renamed Riley as “Jack-Jack”.
Speaking of Riley, he was up squeaking all night. “Squeaking” is my codeword for “making noises like live pigs above a fire pit”. He wouldn’t be calmed but for a few minutes at a time, and the rest of the time he was just wailing. He didn’t want food or need changed and even holding him in his favorite position (upright, his chin on your shoulder) wouldn’t satiate him like it normally does.
Did it have something to do with his shots at the doctor’s office?
Have I mentioned that Riley’s huge? He’s in the 90th percentile for his age (4 months), size-wise. He weighs 17lbs 1 oz and is 24 inches tall. (This height measurement might not be accurate - I must consult with Berta.) He already doesn’t fit very well in his car seat, so we’ll probably be shopping for a new one of those soon enough.
I find this percentile method of comparison amusing. If everyone I talk to is in the 90th percentile, then why isn’t the system horribly skewed?
Anyway, all we need for Riley to do now is start igniting himself, passing through walls, teleporting, or shooting beams from his eyes. That could make the nighttime squeaking worse than it is. There’s always worse, right?
