Dear Zoe,
You love reminding us that you're a big girl. You go to the potty like a big girl. You need a REAL bowl (our ceramic dishes, not those plastic baby ones!) because you're a big girl. Frankly, I'm surprised you haven't asked for your morning coffee and newspaper yet. Everything is big girl.
You wrote your name in sidewalk chalk. This impressed us.
This did not impress me:
Zoe to Andrea: I have a bum.
Andrea to Zoe: Yes, you do.
Zoe to Andrea: You have a big bum.
Andrea to Zoe: Well, you're short.
Andrea to RJ: You better say something REALLY NICE to me RIGHT NOW.
You always tell us that when you get bigger, you will work at Fevvyron (trying to say Chevron) with me. And, apparently, Cole will work at Fevvyron as well. This is good news, since I maintain that EVERYONE should go into Oil and Gas. And take a touch typing class. But, you will only have avocado sandwiches for lunch, not avocado and cheese like Mommy does.
One time we were driving home from Fevvyron and you took your shoe off to use it as a phone. You were talking to Grandma.
"Hi Grandma, how was your day?"
"You bought a new house?"
"You bought a new house?"
"FIVE BATHROOMS???"
We nearly crashed the car because we were laughing so hard. Oh our poor Zoe, living in the dump that we do, only having the one bathroom. She was obviously meant for grandeur.
Last month, you dressed up as a princess (Isaac's birthday party), a cat (Xavier's birthday party) and a little Indian girl (our Halloween party)... and of course, you were convincing as all three...
Love you all the time,
Mommy bear
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