The Little Black Jungle Book

Tonight at dinner an event occurred and it has my brain locked up trying to process. We are eating spaghetti and the Jungle Book is on in the background. This in itself is not unusual, because if you are a denizen of my household, then you have every syllable of Wallace and Gromit & The Jungle Book burned into your mind for all of eternity. Anyway, we are sitting around eating happily as a family when all of sudden my daughter starts having a conniption fit while trying to twist her neck in order to see the television. The reason for this sudden explosion of squirm is that "The Girl" starts singing "My Own Home" in the last scene of the movie. Before I go any further, let me let you watch this scene.



After being freed from her barbaric restraints, she immediately runs into the living room to finish watching this scene where "The Girl" uses her feminine charms upon the dope Mowgli. The disturbing part is the intensity in which Sophie was watching this scene. It was if she was already in training; batting her eyelashes and tilting her head in order to get boys to do her bidding.

The thing that kills me is that she has already learned this lesson and uses these techniques upon the dope that is her dad. At two years old, she has learned that she can tilt her head down and to the side, bat her eyelashes and smile and I will give her pretty much anything she wants.

I am doomed.