the fine art of joke-telling.

Indiana: Knock knock.

Me: Who’s there?

Indiana: Chicken.

Me: Tintin who?

Indiana: Not Tintin! Chicken!

Me: Oh! Chicken who?

Indiana: Moustache.

Me: Chicken moustache?

Indiana: Yes.

(Indiana, aged 2)


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An archive of quotes from my radical tomboy daughters; Indiana Lux (3.5) and Beatrix Honey (7.5) on their journey to becoming less pod and more human.

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