Whenever I hear BFG, I think BFG 9000 from the old video game Doom, which featured an epic battle with monsters from hell by a futuristic space-marine.
In context of the game, I’m pretty sure BFG is an acronym for Big Fucking Gun. This is just how military people talk. For example, in the torpedo room of the boat where I served, any hammer over 10 ounces was known as a BFH. In the military, people extended this naming metaphor to just about everything, including large chicken breasts in the mess line (gimme dat BFB, son).
So I was surprised when Kennedy asked me to read The BFG.
I hadn’t even known about the Roald Dahl book until she suggested I read it. For Dahl, BFG stands for Big Friendly Giant. Over the summer Kennedy read it herself. Most every morning, I find her awake in her bedroom, reading something. If it’s not Dahl, it’s a Nancy Drew mystery or something from the Warriors series (think: Lord of the Rings with cats). Although she had already read The BFG, she checked it out of the library, just because it was familiar and an old favorite. When she found out I hadn’t read it, she insisted I take it on. Now when I tickle-attack her, I claim I am the BFD (Big Friendly Dad) and she squeals with delight.
It’s great having nine year olds that love to read (Aaron’s into Calvin and Hobbs and Garfield). But how much longer can it be before Dad and even tickle-attacks fall out of favor? How much longer before my kids won’t bring home anymore library books for me to read?
Will BFD ever come to mean something entirely different to the kids? As long as it’s not Big Fat Dad, I won’t complain.