Yesterday my dearest Lilo came up to me with a drawing. “Look, Mommy!” my precocious and precious child cried, “I’ve made you look like a Bimbo!”
After I cleaned up the tea I had spewed all over my desk, I asked her to explain her picture. It was clearly me, but she had drawn me in a way that she typically didn’t (but which looked strangely familiar) and with a different hairstyle. It looked … like I was Calvin’s mother from Calvin and Hobbes.
Light began to dawn. I distinctly remembered this cartoon strip:
I asked Lilo if she, perhaps, had been thinking of Calvin’s mother. She gleefully gave me an affirmative, and hugged me with happiness that her drawing could be recognized and with pride that her Mommy was smart enough to figure it out.
Then she put forth the dreaded question, “Mommy, what’s a bimbo?”
At this point Sweet Babou, who was working from home, actually fell on the floor doubled up from mirth. I thought about kicking him, but refrained. I am all classy like that, y’all.
I told Lilo that a bimbo was a not-nice word for a woman who wore too much makeup. She piped up again, “You mean like Granny?” This is when Sweet Babou began to howl like a dog from the unbearable humor of it all, and I thought I was going to have to pour crushed Xanax down his throat to calm him.
I informed my daughter that Granny did not wear too much makeup. She just uses a little makeup but it seemed like more because Mommy usually doesn’t wear any. Moreover, bimbo was a mean word and we should not use it, even if it was funny in Calvin and Hobbes and even if Daddy falls down laughing every single time you say it.
Lilo absorbed all this, nodded thoughtfully at the foolishness of grown-up rules, and went back to her art.
A few minutes later I heard, “Mommy, I like to wear a lot of makeup. I want to be a bimbo when I grow up.”