I am finding it hard to believe, but Zoe's 8th birthday is coming up in just a few weeks. (Yes, that means I will be posting her baby picture again soon.) In some ways these have been the fastest 8 years of my life. I have no idea where so much time went because it feels like only yesterday that we brought little baby Zoe home from the hospital. At the same time, I can't remember or imagine my life without her in it. But I will save the rest of the "remember when" stuff for her actual birthday because that's not what I wanted to write about today.
Zoe is obsessed with being a big girl. When she got up on her own and got herself dressed without being told she asked me, "am I acting like a big girl?" She has opinions on what big girls wear, read, play with, etc. I've been encouraging her efforts, of course.
This morning, however, I had to correct one of her ideas about being a big girl. Just before leaving for the bus stop Zoe asked me, "When I turn 8, can I say f**k?"
I forced myself not to laugh and said, "No, that's a grown-up word. Not even big girls should say that word."
"But Asher says f**k," she replied. Asher is her 12 year-old cousin.
"He shouldn't," I replied.
"He shouldn't say it to grown-ups," Zoe answered. I couldn't argue with that one.
I re-iterated that it is not a word she should use, but that some people do it in frustration. I suggested she use "phooey" instead.
"Phooey is a baby word." She got me again.
So finally I told her, "life just doesn't make sense sometimes, does it?"