And Dr Smallski was all settled on my chest last night as I talked to the unborn baby...I thought to whistle the "doo-dee-doo-doo-doo" from Close Encounters... at the baby, to establish communication.
Margot hated it! The whistling, I mean. She made a sort of peeved yowl. I did it again.
Margot hated it! The whistling, I mean. She made a sort of peeved yowl. I did it again.
"Yowl!!" (pulls away)
Repeated efforts to get her to enjoy the whistling failed. Could it be she just never heard whistling at her old homestead and it freaked her out, the same way an acoustic guitar strum will freeze her idiot sister in her tracks?
Or maybe, just like her hero Harold Ross, she just hates whistlers.
Maybe one day she can edit the Mew Yorker. Cough.
Or maybe, just like her hero Harold Ross, she just hates whistlers.
Maybe one day she can edit the Mew Yorker. Cough.
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