You Don't Know Jack

Audrey has a new obsession and his name is Jack.  We are only two weeks into the year at her new school, but she pretty much decided from T minus 1 (the open house on the day before school started) that Jack was her new reason for getting out of bed in the morning.

I would normally try to temper such fanaticism before it got out of hand, but anything that makes her excited to go to school everyday is fine by me.

It is now all Jack all the time at our house.  Out of nowhere, she'll periodically burst into a big smile, start laughing hysterically, and exclaim "Jack!"  I would say that this is her first crush, but she's been known to invoke similar glee over her markers ("Electric Lime!")

She has acquired a disturbing Smurf-like tendency of peppering everything she says with Jack references.

"These cost Jack dollars."
"Jack hamburger steak!"
"What's for dinner?  We're having rice, chicken, Jack, salad, and mashed potatoes."
"We need more Jack-bell!"

Wishes he was as
cool as Jack Gallo.

Since discovering that our cupcake-maker iPhone app includes a letter decoration option, I now have about 2.87g of my 3g phone taken up with creations like the one to the left.

We have two books on our shelves that have the word "Jack" on the spine.  One is by Jack Welch, the other is a biography of Jack Kerouac.  Because we are just that eclectic.  Or one of them was a freebee from a work conference and the other was a gift and neither have been read.

So now about eleventy trillion times a day, Audrey asks me "What does the red book say?" or "What does the black book say?" just to hear me say "Jack".

I was going to close with some Smurf-like Jack-speak, but unfortunately Jack-talk comes slightly less cute and a lot more profane.  So I will just leave it untranslated when I say that I'm going to Smurf her upside the head if she doesn't stop Smurfing me off with all of the Smurfety Smurf Smurf Smurf-shit.