This afternoon, while riding in an airplane sans booze for the first time in Gob knows how long, I reached two very important conclusions. The first conclusion is that I am completely and utterly obsessed with my nephews. The second is that, with the exception of a few uncomfortable minutes toward the end involving Jason Bateman's character and a basement full of comic books, Juno is a perfect film. In regards to the former, Amy Poehler wrote something about her two young sons in her bestselling memoir Yes Please that I'm totally on board with but, like, in terms of my nephews.
These boys, they are delicious. I swear, if I could eat my children, I would. I'd consume them like some beast in a Hieronymus Bosch painting, but in a friendlier, more momlike way. Their little bodies make me salivate. It takes everything I have not to swallow them whole.