French Week for old Laughing Boy this week. He made, and apparently proudly showed off to the rest of the school today, a mosaic of Gerard Depardieu. “Whoa, that’s random…” I thought to myself, when I first heard about it on Tuesday. “Gerard Depardieu????” (Or as LB’s pronunciation is pretty poor at the moment; “Jaaar-depidoo”).

“Why Gerard Depardieu?” I asked this evening, puzzled.
“Dunno Mum.”
“What other famous people could you have done?”
“Louis XI, Napoleon Bonaparte, Marie Antoinette…”
“So why Gerard Depardieu? Have you seen him on a film?”
“Yes, Mum.”
“What film was that?”
“102 Dalmations, Mum.”

And there it was. The answer. It ain’t random at all. LB loved the Dalmation films as a pup. He watched them over and over again. I can remember distracting him from a potentially massive meltdown one French holiday, by pointing out that Cruella was probably in the local prison and might hear him.  Laughter defeated the distress on that occasion. The DeVil years. How could I forget?

But he didn’t. So remarkable really. The certainty and infallibility of his memory.

Fanbloodytastique, as they say in France.

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