(Weird thing about blogs. You read the latest post first, so it's like time travel. Here's an addendum to the previous story, published a couple of hours ago, which you probably haven't got to yet.)
I didn't tell the boys we were going to see the Karamazovs, I let the show and its contents be a complete surprise to them. (They loved it, but I think I saw a gleam in Secundus's eye that means I have to hide the eggs.) Last week, I worked the same trick to get them to come shopping at the Container Store with me, pretending that their secret treat was to choose the colors of the crates I was buying.
Apparently, Primus complained to his mother about the forthcoming theater trip. "I hope he's not taking us to a musical about the Container Store," he moaned.
Why not? I hear they do good "box" office. Bwaaaaaaa-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha!
(Although the joke was on me, because the Karamazovs use hundreds of cardboard boxes as their stage decor. As Primus smugly pointed out.)