I am standing at the top of the stairs wearing MQD’s flourescent green t-shirt with an image of J.R. “Bob” Dobbs. I am watching Emily as she stirs, approaching a state of wakefulness. Across from me, over the staircase is a framed picture with the same image.
Em stretches and opens her eyes. “We need to get up and get moving, shortie. We slept in.”
“What time is it?” she groans, sounding more like 15 than 5.
“It’s almost 8 o’clock.”
“We get up at 7, Mom… Oh my…” she trails off and climbs out of bed. She is walking towards me with the sleepy movements of a child. “I almost said God.”
She stands in front of me in the hallway. “You know God looks like that.” She points at my shirt.
I misunderstand her. “That is Bob, honey, it’s Dad’s shirt.”
“Not Bob, Mom. God. I think God looks like Bob. If you Believe in God…. Bob is everywhere.”
Right before my head explodes she continues. “Bob is on your shirt, and in that picture. Whoa.”
She amuses me endlessly. And from now on I will have her explain MQD’s membership in the Church of the Subgenius to people. Interesting to note that she thinks God looks like a 50’s tv sitcom father. Step up from the man with the long white beard, I suppose.
Excitement on the side 
Back in high school, in order to avoid blasphemy but still curse like sailors, a bunch of friends and I tried to start using “Bob-dammit!” as an expletive. It never quite caught on. This post makes me want to try again.