8 going on 38.
"Sigaro? Don't you mean Figaro?" I asked.
"No, It's Sigaro, " he said. And you have to know this about William; he is always absolutely sure about everything. "Sigaro, " he repeated, looking me dead in the eye, lips pressed together. "Like in the cartoon."
"Well, you know, William, " I answered, equally 100% sure of myself (because he got that from me,...) it is actually Figaro." He lifted an eyebrow at me, so I added, "And I'll prove it to you."
I got on my trusty old laptop and searched out the Figaro cartoon. No sense in explaining and searching out the real-life opera, right? I could prove him wrong using his own resources. So, here ya go.
Check it out. Remember this one?
( Hang in to the end, with the shrinking head bit... )
"HA!" I said
"Whatever, William. Old age comes with wisdom. Just accept it."
"But, Mommy," he said, and he looked at me with a certain long-lashed smile of his that warns of approaching sarcasm. "I wouldn't call you old. Flattery works better. And as for wisdom..." He paused for effect here. .. "Let me just say this. The cartoon I'm thinking about has Sylvester in it."
Hm. Sylvester? I couldn't pull that one up in my memory, so we looked it up:
Sigh... Yeah. Very obvious that lisped S, isn't it? ("lithped eth?")
So now I'm eating crow, having been bested by an eight-year old... who knows cartoons better after only eight years than I do after 45 -- and who challenges his mother's wisdom in debating cartoons with an eight-year-old, to begin with.
But, my son, he's a gracious winner. "It's OK," he told me, after being proven right. "Don't feel bad. It's not wisdom, just memory that you're losing."
Thanks, William. I'll get you next time; you'd better watch your back...