And so it goes. . .

This post has been a long time coming so admittedly I am a little overwhelmed with where to begin. I guess I should begin be thanking my friend and fellow blogger, Tiffany for so creatively reminding me (guilting me) about just how long it has been since the last post. So I'm writing now to avoid the next post being about taking Zoe to college. I could once again make an empty promise about posting more often, but I will refrain. Instead I will say that although they are not captured as often as they once were, the glorious, frustrating, funny, and maddening moments still occur. And, since Tiffany was the catalyst, I am stealing your idea.

Dear Zoe:
If you are an adult who is now reading this blog, you are surely thinking that most of your third year of live was pretty uneventful considering how infrequently I have blogged about it. Nothing could be further from the truth. Let me begin by mentioning that Michael Jackson has died since I last posted. Yeah, I know you have no idea who I am talking about and the word Moonwalk will never enter your lexicon; but it was a big deal to your old, uncool parent's generation so I thought I should mention it.

Ok, about you. After two very scary misplacements of the blankie at school, you have quit bringing it. That's right, your school gave it to the wrong kid twice, both on Friday afternoons. You were probably not worried, you knew I would get it back. I, on the other hand panicked as if my car just got stolen and was one step away from calling 911 and attaching a GPS system to the damn thing when we finally got it returned. Big news and I'm proud of you for not needing it anymore (at school anyway).

Potty training, well that is hit or miss, at home anyway. At school, you could win medals for you potty proficiency. Your teachers must have a special drug that I am not aware of. At home when I ask if you need to pee pee on the potty your response is, "no thank you". While I appreciate the use of good manners, it's not really the answer I am looking for. Stickers seem to help, and of course when we are at a restaurant, store, or you just don't feel like going to bed, you are really good at pee peeing on the potty, or at least taking a visit to the bathroom .

You do a lot of unexplainable, hysterically strange things that could only come from the mind of a two and a half year old. You call your fruit snacks, snack food. You tell me you want to eat my face. You crack up when you fart (your bum is talking) and you walk around with a pretend dog on Sadie's leash. Since my last post, you swim by yourself in the pool thanks to your life jacket (who goes by fishy) and you have back to nana and poppa's for vacation.

Whew, there. Except for the major change that will be discussed in a later post, I think I've got everything. I'll start posting more, promise!