P-Daddy Rocks My World

A bit of housekeeping today. Something that's been long overdue on my happy, little blog.

You know my beloved as Mon Mari. After he attacked Mt Ventoux he also became the Cyclist Guerrier, which he probably prefers to anything. But it's really not his decision is it?
Nowadays, he's known around these parts as P-Daddy.

Here's how it happened:

P-Daddy on the day in question

I tend to call him Daddy when we're talking to the kids, as those of you with small children can understand, and so last summer on a blissful sunny terrace day as we sat around talking it up with Sara, I accidentally said, 'Ask Daddy if he's....whatever.'

Of course Sara found it hilarious, in the way that she finds odd things hilarious, and started calling him 'Daddy' all the time.

We thought it was funny and kinda weird and so I added the P to make it sound sexier. And we were off.

We went to Avignon back in November with the fabulous Bec and her knight M, and Sara and G-Ton (you know this is my name for The Husband, right?) and they were all calling him P-Daddy too.

But the best part was when G-Ton had a computer question way over in le petit village and asked Sara to get 'Daddy' on the phone to help him out.You can read all about that here.

After that, the deal was done. Mon Mari is now P-Daddy. It is the only obvious choice.

He'll be coming out with his own perfume soon. It will smell like chocolate, blue sky and sunscreen.