My daughter called me earlier today, and I could tell by the excitement in her voice that something was up. She didn’t even say hello — just jumped right into it.
Her: “Dad! You know that Gladiator movie I bought you?”
Me: “Yeah, of course. Why?”
There was a dramatic pause, the kind she uses when she’s about to rope me into something ridiculous.
Her: “Okay, go to your TV. Fast-forward to one hour… sixteen minutes… and twenty-eight seconds exactly.”
At this point, I’m thinking something major is about to happen — a secret actor cameo, a blooper, maybe an editing mistake. So I sit down, grab the remote like it’s a precision instrument, and scan forward to the exact second she said.
Me: “Alright, I’m there.”
Her: “Good. Now, you see the gladiator right at the front fighting the lion?”
Me: “Yep, front and center. Looks pretty dangerous.”
Her: “Okay, behind him you’ll notice two other gladiators fighting each other with swords.”
Me: “Yes, I see them. Pretty intense scene.”
Her: “Great. Now look behind those two. Not too far. Look on the left-hand side of the screen. There’s a woman gladiator holding a spear.”
So I squint. Lean forward. Pause the movie. Unpause it. Pause it again. I’m practically analyzing it like a crime scene.
Me: “Alright… alright… yes! I see her now!”
And that’s when she finally reveals the whole point of this cinematic scavenger hunt.
Her: “Perfect. Those are the sandals I want for my birthday.”
I sat there staring at the screen, watching a fierce warrior woman in ancient Rome battling for her life… wearing the exact pair of shoes my daughter has apparently been dreaming about.
All that effort — not for historical insight, not for trivia, not even for a funny blooper.
Nope.
For sandals. Ancient Roman sandals.
And honestly?
That’s exactly the kind of energy I expect from her.
