Julien puts on music while Soëlie and I are in the kitchen, serving up Father's Day breakfast. Motorhead starts blaring through the speakers.
J: Ooh la, maybe Motorhead is a bit much in the morning.
Soon the sounds of Pascale Picard come from the living room.
Me, to S: Listen to that, honey, Papa put on music from the woman he would leave me for.
J: Listen to who's talking. If Val Kilmer came along, inviting you to run off with him, you'd go in a heartbeat.
M: Would not.
J: Yes you would. "Oh, Val! Of course I'll come. Let me be your Willow!"
M, with raised eyebrows: Your Willow? Um, as in: Let me be your male dwarf?*
J says that Mr Kilmer has not aged well, but I assert that Madmartigan was hot, and give me Iceman any day over Tom Cruise.
* Sorry if this is not the accepted term for little people. It is what popped out of my mouth.