the preternaturally mature and self-posessed child for whom i babysat last night charmed me but left lana, who was keeping me company, unsettled. she has a 12 year old brother and is more acquainted with the requirements of the genre, whereas i just get a kick out of smart kids. certainly an interesting experience though: this one bashfully requested to hang out with us; apologized in advance for a stand-up BET show (“it’s for black people, so sometimes they make jokes about white people, so i’m sorry, please don’t be offended”); declared big daddy one of sandler’s best; asked us carefully if we were feminists — they’re looked down on in my school, he said. what do you think the word means? we asked. someone who thinks women should have options, he said, and i nearly hugged him — and shook our hands as we left, $30 richer for having spent an evening lounging in the living room worshipping television.
big daddy, i agreed, did seem like an adam sandler best, reflective of a new hollywood habit of making the hero the Dad. i don’t think i’m imagining that when i was younger, cinemales were virile and unattached. now guys grow up, decide to get married or stay within its bounds, and save little children. a return to reaganish values? the aging of the stars in question?
the babysittee had no father. perhaps his status as only child of single working mother helped form his self-sufficiency. nature/nurture: oh, who knows.