Yesterday morning, Sam was sitting on my bed watching TV and getting dressed for school.
Well, actually, what he was doing was sitting on my bed, watching TV with his mouth hanging open, clutching a limply dangling shirt in his immobile hand.
The shirt would twitch closer to his body.
He'd open the bottom of the shirt.
He'd begin to put one hand in the sleeve.
Eventually I made him go to his room and get dressed. He emerged five seconds later, fully clothed.
It was notable, this television hypnosis, and I wondered if maybe it wasn't a good thing.
That night, Chris and I are in the kitchen. I'd been loading the dishwasher while Biggest Loser was on the TV. Sam comes in and asks for some milk.
Two minutes later I turn around and see Chris, his hand on the open refrigerator door, staring at the TV, mouth hanging open.
It wasn't even the weigh-in, people. They were just jogging on treadmills.