Bonded

Add another James Bond movie to the "Yep, seen it" list.

"Casino Royale" came out last weekend, and Alex called from school a few days before to see if we could see it together. The cynic in me might suspect that this was because there was a good possibility that if he went with us, we might well buy his ticket (and perhaps throw in a lunch or dinner to boot) but the truth is that we've been seeing James Bond together for a long time.

The movie didn't disappoint; there were all of the great things we have come to expect from Fleming, Broccoli et al. Suspense, intrigue, beautiful women, wicked men and all too often it's hard to tell who is good and who is bad until it's nearly too late. No, I've no complaints about the movie experience, and despite the general familial agreement that there will never be another Bond as fine as Sean Connery, life does move forward and we take our new Bonds as they come.

James Bond is just one of those things that tie us together. These things aren't planned; sometimes they just happen. When Alex was 2 and Isaac was a newborn, we survived a rough three months with a colicky baby by rocking the baby for 2 hours each evening and watching every James Bond or Sean Connery movie we could rent from the local video store. Alex wouldn't remember that, indeed, he was probably already in bed by the time the screamings ... er ... screenings ...began, but somewhere about age 12, we began to invite him along when a new Bond movie came to the theaters.

James Bond. Preserved frogs in a jar. Vampires and Zombie movies. Book stores. Cats with no tails. Sushi bars. The perfect mechanical pencil. Sock monkeys. Spritz cookies. The ties that bind. Bonded.