Licensed to Chill

Small Boy bounds into the kitchen with the exciting news that his class is putting together a film. "And I am going to be one of the stars in it!"
"That's lovely darling! What's the film about?"
"It's for our end of year assembly for next term." Small Boy pauses and raises his eyebrows enigmatically. "And I can't tell you what it's about cos we have been sworn to secrecy."
"Oh?" I smile and wait and watch as he squirms and jumps up and down, which is what he does when he cannot contain himself. (Before I had Small Boy, I had not given much thought to the expression, "he cannot contain himself", but having watched many such performances over the years, I now know it to be a very accurate description of a small child's way of expressing excitement or frustration.)
"Oooooh, all right! I'll tell you!" he blurts out, as though I have been spending the past thirty seconds tickling him into submission, rather than watching and waiting patiently. "It's going to be a James Bond movie!" he squeals, thumping the air in triumph.
"Fantastic!" I say. Although I am struggling to see the relationship between 007 and Class 6I . . .
"And I," says Small Boy, his face split into the most gleeful of grins, "am going to be--"
"No, no!" I butt in. "Let me guess . . . you are going to be an evil villain. Preferably one with a white cat." Small Boy does a good line in Evil Villain voices, and I know he would not pass up the opportunity to carry an animal of some kind around with him.
"No!" says Small Boy, wiggling his eyebrows at me again. "Guess again."
"Erm . . . wait! You're not actually going to be James Bond himelf, are you?" I get quite excited at the idea of my cute small son dressed up in black tie, his hair actually brushed for once in his life.
"No!" he says. "You'll never guess. It's actually way better than either of those." He pauses. "I am going to be . . . a BOND GIRL!" Holy. Flippin'. Moly. This cannot be true. But he is going into detail now, about his outfit and the scene he has filmed today: "I am wearing this totally awesome wig and I have to put my own lipstick on! And it's wicked, cos the lipstick is so hard to get off, I actually got to wear it up until lunchtime today! And My Best Friend William has brought a dress in for me to wear cos he has a totally fantastic dressing-up box, and the funniest thing is that Molly is James Bond and William and I are both Bond Girls and we have to kiss her on the cheek at that part in the song where they say, 'I wish I was James Bond, kissing all the girls . . ."
I bite the inside of my cheeks. Hard. Then I squeak: "That's great!"
"Isn't it?" trills Small Boy, pirouetting round the kitchen.
Isn't it, just.