Pretty sure I’ve posted this one before but I was definitely not happy with the post-processing on many from this set. Anyway, went back to the original and reworked this one.
And now she sings along with everything: us, videos, the radio, my guitar.
The downside? Attempting to convince her NOT to sing at the top of her lungs with the Musak system at the coffee shop.
And yes, that’s her new haircut.
No, not of the computer…
It appears my video card on my main machine has decided that death was a better operation than continuing to function normally. Yay for it and yay for a trip to Fry’s tomorrow.
Update… and get this… Warranty expiration?
8/1/2008.
AAAARRRRRGGGGHHH!!!
This one just worked better in B&W…
Kids are naturally inquisitive and Zoe is no exception. And when they finally figure out the very few words that cover nearly every inquiry, watch out!
Most of the time it is the parent’s duty to diligently answer question after question but at some point, for sake of our own sanity, we must stop. We give definitive answers that indicate that, on this particular thread, there will be no more questions at all. After you have followed the chain from “why she shouldn’t squish the cat” all the way down to “breathable oxygen is made of up of 2 oxygen molecules which are constructed of atoms”, you can safely say you’ve done your job. At least until particle physics which, we hope, we won’t have to approach until she is well into year 4.
We have rules. She’s not allowed to ask why in the kitchen. We ask her to do something, she does it, because there are hot things, sharp things, dangerous things when she’s “helping” us cook. She’s pretty good about it so far but occasionally needs a stern reminder. Nearly every other situation, we’re limited only by our patience.
How often we forget, though, that their tiny ears work even when their mouths are running a mile a minute! Case in point:
Heather took Zoe into the bedroom today and went into the closet to change. Every few seconds Zoe kept opening the closet door.
“Don’t close the door, Mommy!” Zoe whined.
“Why not?” Heather asked, employing Zoe’s favorite question.
Zoe raised her voice, “BECAUSE I SAID SO.”
Another from the ‘mirror’ collection:
You may be wondering if I remember how to take(/process) color photos. Wonder no more.
This just goes to prove that I’m willing to make a blog post about any mundane thing…
Yesterday as I was getting Zoe ready for bed, combing and drying her hair, my stomach let out a rather frightening growl.
“What was THAT?” she asked, startled a bit, I think.
“That was my stomach growling.”
“Are you OK, Daddy?”
“Yes, honey, I am.”
Still looking concerned, she said, “Did I give you too much lovins?”
No, no you didn’t, Zoe.
As on every Sunday, we found ourselves outside of Central Market sipping on beverages of choice; melon soda for Heather, orange soda for myself, and orange juice for Zoe. Besides visiting the lobster, sitting on the bench outside is Zoe’s favorite part of the shopping trip.
As we sat down, I’d noticed a bee floating around the garbage can. Though this is not unheard of at said grocery story, little did I know what we were in for.
We found out three things in very short order: 1) bees like orange juice, 2) bees like little girls in flowery shirts, 3) bees have friends.
They wouldn’t leave us alone and we decided to make an exit when they after they started swarming dangerously close to Zoe’s face. Heather and I were in a controlled panic. Zoe, on the other hand, was a bit curious. As she asked, Heather mislabeled them as wasps.
So with 3 of them buzzing around us fairly aggressively, Heather began to walk Zoe over to the giant fan in hopes of blowing the little bugger that was fixated on our Zoe away (I was contending with the other two who had taken up residence in the detached orange juice cap).
The entire way down, being hounded at every step, Zoe remained calm, addressing the “wasp”: “No thank you Mr. Wasp, I don’t need any help. No thank you, Mr. Wasp, I don’t need any help. No thank you…”
Polite to a fault, I guess!
By the time we made it to our car, the two bees left in the cap of the orange juice had tunneled underneath the foil wrapper that was on top of the cap. I’m usually a stickler for cleaning out a cart before we put it in the cart return, but… yeah, no. The bees won this round.
