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.