get your hands off my happycake oven

November 19, 2010

last week after work jon and jude and i were sitting in the front room chatting up one of our friends who had stopped by for a few minutes.  we adultez talked as the jude stumbled around the room playing with toys.  he found his little plastic panda bear and held it up for me.

BAY-BEE.  BAYBEE.  BAYBEE.  BAAAAAYBEE.

um, hello, what?
your panda, he's your baby?  and eeeeeeerp– suddenly you can say BABY?

clearly i only had once choice: the jude needed his own baby-doll so that i could hear him say BAYBEE more.  oh those toddlbies, always tricking me into doing crafts.

i'd like to introduce you all to... french baby.

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hello french baby, nice to meet you!

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what's that you say?
oh pooo? the sea has enveloped you like a mother's womb? hoh-hoh-hooh?

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you're lucky jude likes you, because jon likes to call you scary french baby.

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if only i had some fabric to make you a striped french shirt and jaunty red scarf.
you're going to have to settle for those Haute couture star pants for now.

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what? you'd like me to come closer so you can tell me a secret?

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french baby! how lewd! what a thing to say to a lady!

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yeah, yeah, laugh it up.

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FRENCH BABY! NO!

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oh come on. mature, reeeeal mature.

(of course i gave french baby a butt. butts are hilarious! especially to little boys.)

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keep your crazy eye to yourself, creeper.
what kind of baby has a mustache, anyway?

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a french one.   duh.

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beware the button eyes.
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