Get Lucky

After bath and brushing, Hugh, now 7, was rinsing his mouth rhythmically for an annoyingly long time.

“Come on goofy,” I finally said. “Let’s wrap it up.”

He spits, then slurps while pulling a breath.

With drool fresh on his little smiling lip, he entreats, “know what song I was swishin’? … Get Lucky,” he says. (Daft Punk, 2013)

Moments later, without grace or segway, he hurriedly asks, “is Bat Girl good or bad?”

“Oh, she’s totally good.” I say. “She helps Batman.”

“Whada’bout Cat Girl?” he asks.

“You mean Catwoman?” I ask.

“Yeah, Catwoman,” he says.

“Hmmm – she’s kinda both,” I say. “Sometimes she’s up to trouble, sometimes she’s helping Batman. ”

“¿Más o menos?” he asks excitedly.

“That’s right buddy – She’s más o menos,” I say.

And she’s up all night to get lucky.

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