After their baths, I promised Keaton and Weston they could watch an episode of the Clone Wars (a new series on cartoon network).
During one of the final scenes, a traitor droid unit (a gold r2d2 called r3--i know, i know-- i am getting star wars geeky) was destroyed in a battle. Weston climbed up on my lap and, with all the empathy he could muster, moaned: