Ariela Channels the Young Ruth
Yesterday I received this blogpost from heaven.
Actually it was an email from Ruth, who had this conversation with her four year old daughter Ariela in the car on the way to work. Ruth noted, "this conversation has convinced me that occasionally spirits from my past life enter the body of my daughter purely for the purpose of tormenting me."
Ariela: (in the back seat, quietly) What the fock? What the fock? What the fock?
Ruth: What did you say?
Ariela: FocS. I said FoX. What?
Ruth: The other word. You know what I’m talking about; it’s not a very nice word.
Ariela: Fock. Rhymes with sock. Fock, fock, fock rhymes with sock. Mommy, fock rhymes with sock.
Ruth: So does block.
Ariela: Good one, mommy! So does cock.
Ruth: WHY are you saying these words to me?
Ariela: Because I think they’re funny! (singsong voice) But youuuuu don’tttt.
Ariela: Sock, block, shock, lock, fock, dock, tock, knock. Those are all good words. Except the [stage whisper] FOCK one.
Today's fragrance in honor of Ruth: Annick Goutal's Ce Soir ou Jamais, one of my favorite, most ladylike roses.