Knock Knock

Caroline Rhea. Bonnie Hunt. Julia Louis-Dreyfus. Aristophanes. Beware! Rhiannon has a new stand-up act that makes all other comics sit down. Just in time for Halloween, Rhiannon is now telling Halloween-themed knock-knock jokes intermittantly sprinkled with old chestnuts like banana/orange and new favorites like "hippies". And all are FCC-approved! Here's a sampling:

Knock-knock.

Who's there?

Witch.

Witch who?

Which witch is which?

The crowd warms up...

Knock-knock.

Who's there?

Hello!

Hello who?

No, silly! Helloween!!!

(extra applause from old-school metalheads)

Bringing it home...

Knock-knock.

Who's there?

Ghost.

Ghost who?

Go stick your head in a bucket of water!

Wild applause. Rhiannon loves this so much she tells the joke twice more and once again for an encore. Kind of like what you wish would happen at an America concert. "Horse with no name! Horse with no name again! Again! Goodnight!"

So cute and funny it's scary.

Andrew (papa)

kkkkkka sjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjj ,,,,,mmmmmmmmm mmmmmmmm aaaa

mmmmmm aaaaaaaaaa mmmms ssssssss djuffyy shahhhhhhhhhjj kkkkk jjjjj wwwwwwwwww aaaaaaaaaaaaoooo pppppppppppppp oooooooooooooo iiiiiiiiiiiiiii jaksjfjkjjkkkklk; kjnonon nnnn mmmmmm mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm , ...... ajjjjjjj kjdf

Rock Chick, Rock Chic

It's no secret: my daughter is a rocker. Not in the sense that Grammy is a rocker (kickin' it porch-style), but in the very real sense that Rhiannon is a fan of big beats, bass, distortion, and shouting. That and an affection for Palestrina. Like father like daughter. In memory of the late, great Sleater-Kinney, we were breakfasting to the DVD of The Woods and enjoying "Entertained" and "Jumpers" when Rhiannon looks at me and says, "dad, I like Sleater-Kitty". Amplified Cuteness.

Not only is Rhiannon a fan of that rock and roll music, she also plays it. Here she is in front of her first keyboard, age three, plinking out "Funeral for a Friend" by Elton John:

Later on in the set, she wore this ensemble, purchased on-line from Sir Elton's charity auction site:

Rhiannon is also beginning to sing and write her own material which she carefully couches between snippets of Laurie Berkner, Jack Johnson, and Madonna. Here are two examples:

When I was a baby,

I met a baby dinousaur

and he bited me leg off

and I needed a Band-Aid

with Belle on it....

also (to the tune of "Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star"), just released yesterday:

Pumpkin farm, pumpkin farm,

pumpkin farm, pumpkin farm,

pumpkin farm, pumpkin farm,

pumpkin farm, pumpkin farm....

So yes, ladies and general admission, we have a rock and roll daughter. And we love it.

Andrew (papa)

Darth Maul's Sister?

Continuing the Halloween theme, here's Rhiannon, straight from Skywalker Ranch and ready to kick some jedi a@@!

Either that, or we've got to stop taking her to the tanning parlor.

Cute happening foretelling the crack of doom: Rhiannon has learned the delicate art of mooning. That's right. Jayni and I are standing in the kitchen when Rhiannon comes in and says, "look at my butt". Sure enough, her stretchpants are now cheek-high. She then proceeds to chase me through the house backwards, looking over her shoulder to steer, all the while shouting, "LOOK AT MY BUTT!!!"

Marlowe had it good.

In Other News...

The sister of a friend of mine thinks that Tom Brokaw is cute. This being The Cute Report, you be the judge:

<=Cute?

or

Cute?=>

Answer: The girl on the right. In a cuteness contest with Rhiannon, it would be like looking into the Ark of the Covenant. Melted faces all around.

You should see what we have to wear at home to protect ourselves. Apocalyptic cuteness.

Andrew (papa)

Alexander Gramma Belle

Rhiannon took her weekly Sunday call with grandma and grandpa (pictured below) with a terrible, terrible cuteness.

Transcript of cute point in the call:

Grandpa (GP): Are you ready for Halloween?

Rhiannon (R): Yes. We have two pumpkins.

GP: Wow! That's a lot of pumpkins.

R: No, grandpa. Two is NOT a lot of pumpkins.

GP: Oh, er, I guess you're right.

R: Can I talk to your wife please?

As I said, terrible cuteness. Actually, I wrote, "terrible, terrible cuteness." There can be no stopping it.

Andrew (papa)