I've worked in childcare for far too long. Last night, I dreamt that I was singing an impromptu song about carrots. Yes, even in my dreams I was making up songs to entertain sad-faced two year olds.
This is after I was caught singing about yogurt in our local co-op by the very professional looking lawyer I babysit for. How, exactly, do you explain that? If there had been a child in sight, I could have pretended my song was directed at him, but sadly, there were no children in sight. Just me and my roommates.
I forgot one important detail when choosing a movie: after Guatemala, it's hard to see anything violent. I saw enough dead bodies there, and heard enough gunshots in the night. I had to worry about violent holdups on public transportation, and being mugged. You never went out after dark unless you planned on having multiple people walk you home. I lived across from a "bar" (AKA a house of prostitution), where even the Guatemalans didn't want to walk at night. Let's just say that violent movies make me very tense---they bring back all of the old memories. So if I choose not to watch a violent film, now you know why.