So, when the family and I headed out west for our attempt at a European ski holiday, you can imagine the excitement when the girls discovered their own personal TV with remote and CABLE. Not fifteen minutes had passed when the girls asked how they could skip the previews. "We just saw this one, Mommy!" Through a poorly concealed grin I had to break it to them. "They're called commercials, girls, not previews. And, no, you can't skip them." You can imagine my joy when, days later, they cried, "We hate these previews."
I hear you girls. I hear you.
You can thank me later.