I just came back from a birthday party for one of my son's friends. It was in a movie theatre- a private showing of Desperaux, a mouse, who called himself a "gentelman". Following a code of honor is what made him more than a mouse, and even more than a man- Desperaux was a "gentleman". There's not much to do for adults when you're in a movie theatre, other than watch the movie. I, on the other hand, watched my son as he lost himself in the fantasy of the movie. Most of the other kids just chatted with each other about stuff that kindergardeners talk about... diareah, and doody, and what level they got to on DS Mario Brothers.
As we left the theatre, I held the door for a mother wheeling her baby carriage. My firefighter overcoat on, ruggedly unshaven, it was a friggin Norman Rockwell painting from the 1950s. "Daddy, you're a gentleman," my son Brandon told me. I was convinced that Brandon absorbed concepts from the movie that i have tried so hard to teach him since he was born. That is, until he asked me to stop at Waldbaums to get a block of cheese.