Indiana Jones, I always knew someday you'd come walking back through my door.

This afternoon Andrew was officially introduced to Dr. Henry Walton Jones, Jr., better known as "Indiana Jones."

Between the Indy-themed Burger King ads and those for the Indiana Jones series of Lego sets (of which Andrew received several for his birthday), he has been fully immersed in Indy-mania for weeks, and he has been asking about seeing the "real" Indiana Jones movie (as distinguished from the Lego version). With Katherine out of town this weekend, it sounded like a good opportunity for male-bonding, but I also knew that I would want to screen Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull before he sees it. So instead, I expanded my DVD collection with the addition of Raiders of the Lost Ark. When Lauren slept during naptime and Andrew didn't, we had our chance. I opened with the disclaimer, "Now listen bud, there are some scary parts, so if I tell you to cover your eyes, you need to obey, okay?" He insisted he likes scary parts but would obey if I really told him. The first booby-trap scene with a skeleton arrived before I knew it, and he was remarkably unfazed. I decided to let him cover his eyes on his own, with the exception of the face-melting scene near the end. I went with the rule: if Indy says we need to close our eyes, then we need to do what he says. Andrew could live with that.

He now thinks Indiana Jones is just about the coolest hero there is—not that he's wrong—and he wants his own whip and fedora. I sense a Halloween costume idea fast developing. And I've gone ahead and added the Young Indiana Jones Chronicles to our Netflix queue.