I watched Beauty & the Beast this week.

Here’s the thing about when I watch movies: I think of questions you’re not supposed to think about. I just do. I can’t help it. It’s just how my brain works.

Hey, just real quick, who in the castle made clothes big enough to fit the Beast?

…

………

…………………..

…………………………. Really?

Yes, really! Those household items are not dexterous enough to alter his original clothes nor could they sew something new!

Shit, Katie, I don’t know. Maybe one of them was turned into a sewing kit.

Oh. Yeah. Probably. Good point. Okay, bye!

Yeah, I called Drew just to ask that.

I’d really like to say that that was the end of it.

But then this happened:

Thought of another one: who is MR. Potts???

He died tragically. Why do you think she has to work in the first place?

Yes, we were, of course, speaking about Mrs. Potts, the lovely older woman who was turned into a teapot when the castle was enchanted.

Oh good. That’s what I thought too. So she and crazy old Maurice got together??

I don’t know, Katie.

Don’t get mad!!

I’m not. I just don’t know if he ever recovered from the death of his wife. It’s why he dove into inventing, to ignore his pain.  That is why Belle likes fantasies, to escape her tragic life of having seen her mother die and her dad not recover from it.

Aaaaaaand that’s pretty much why I have the best brother ever and you don’t.