Wednesday, January 16, 2013


After a dinnertime conversation about the whole Jodie Foster thing (In 1979, I thought Candleshoe was the greatest movie ever made, but I'm sure that wasn't a clue to my future sexuality), and we asked LB if she could say the word "gay." She didn't, because babydoll doesn't follow commands, but she did walk over to a bookshelf and grab a copy of Allison Bechdel's Are You My Mother?  That child is a foxing genius (after some dangerous moments in language acquisition, I have decreed that all other permutations of "F words" will be replaced with FOX, as in, "That foxing fox better stop foxing with me or I will fox him up)."  Problem solved.

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