My 12 year old son has a summer assignment: Read and Annotate Oliver Twist. No, not the Disney-fied movie featuring adorable animated dogs and cats, but the real, honest to goodness 450+ page novel.
From my English major days, I remember that Charles Dickens wrote in serial form, publishing chapters in newspapers. His audience eagerly awaited each installment. London was abuzz. The See Household? Not so much.
Payback is hell.
And speaking of hormonal boys, Oliver Twist, known for its extensive vocabulary, unwittingly illuminated a new one here in the See household.
I popped the Oliver Twist audio cd in the car yesterday, hoping to help get our Dickens mojo on, and within moments, Jake was laughing uncontrollably. Pleased that he had turned the corner and was now a Dickens-lover, I asked him what was so funny.
We replayed the segment in question. Turns out there's a character named Charlie Bates. Who was referred to 4 times in a row as... Master Bates. Yep. Which to a 12 year old boy, and perhaps a 41 year old mom, is pretty funny stuff.
Problem is, my 10 year old was in the car and needed some 'splaining. Let's just say Molly learned a new word today, something her mom didn't hear about until she read it in Cosmo in at LEAST 10th grade.
Advanced curriculum these days, I suppose.