In which a veteran of cultural studies seminars in the 1990s moves into academic administration and finds himself a married suburban father of two. Foucault, plus lawn care.
The Girl is the cutest, most angelic looking three year old on the planet.
But don't be fooled.
Yesterday morning, as The Wife and I were upstairs getting ready, and The Boy and The Girl were downstairs, finishing their breakfast:
TW (sighing): What?
TB: TG said I *suck*!
DD: (stifled laugh)
TW: TG, did you say that?
TG (brightly): Sow-wy!
TW was mortified, but I was a little proud. TG may look like a girlie girl, but she takes no crap. Over time, this will be a good thing.
I just have to learn not to laugh out loud when she strikes.
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