Actual post-bedtime story dialogue last night:

“Dad, I have a secret for you.”
“What, Nora?”
(Stage whisper:) “You have to take me to England!”

All I can figure is it’s Paddington wot done it. Nora, who is three, sleeps with the Paddington Bear doll I brought her back from England last summer. Given how she’s evangelized her brother Lucas about the virtues of Blighty — where she gets this, I have no idea — it’s starting to look like I’d better start peeking into my airmiles account. So much for Daddy’s Francophilic influence. What’s Madeline, chopped liver foie gras?