I was driving home yesterday with children #1 and #2.

Child#1 was discussing his new-found love of spinach1. “Well that’s excellent”, says I, “because spinach has loads of iron in it which is really good for you”.

Ever the over-thinker, child#1 then asks if too much spinach can be bad for you. I was reluctant to share with him stories of post-childbirth iron tablet-mediated constipation so I just stick with “no, too much iron won’t hurt you”.

At which point child#2 pipes up with “in the film when the boy was by himself2, the naughty man was hurt by an iron”. As I was trying to rearrange these words to make a coherent sentence, child#1 gleefully chips in with “yeah, right in the forehead!”

And it all became clear:





  1. But he still won’t try any kind of sauce which isn’t gravy.
  2. That’s Home Alone to you and me.

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