First time skiing and more poop adventures

Dear Zoe,

The plan was to take you sledding while papa and I took turns skiing. At the ski rental store you explored the poles, the boots, told me to get the red ones. They had only black for my size. The parental guilt of doing something fun that yo can't share weighed heavy on us. But you were too little... or so we thought, until we asked if they had equipment for your size. The clerk said yes! The next morning three sets of skis and boots were ready to face the mountain. "The Magic Carpet" kids lift was inconveniently located at the far end of the facility, accessed through a long uphill battle. We marched on, sweating under the weight of skis, poles, coats and the little you.

We were concerned that we might turn you off of skiing, by introducing the activity too early, but you surprised us with your enthusiasm. "Let's do it again." Let's do it again." So up and down we went.

At the end of the day, as we were heading back to the car, you refused to walk, threw yourself on the ground, and ran back to the ski area.

On the way home, we stopped by a Japanese restaurant for dinner where you went to potty with papa. when you came back to the table, you told us what happened:

"I pooped in the potty. You are so proud of me. It makes you very happy. The poop came out, it fell in the water. Plop." Turning to papa, "you were so excited!" It was so big, like papa's." Your hands, showing the size of a big poop, your voice loud and excited, in a Japanese restaurant. We listened, happy.

On another subject, while  putting on your socks, I pointed at your right foot, I said, "Zoe give me your right foot." Shaking your left foot you asked "is this my wrong foot?"

I love you, my moon light.

Kiss,
Mommy

Little soccer player

Little Zoe,

You started playing soccer. Every Sunday papa and I take turns, and either bike or drive to Arena Sports, where you kick ass and charm the world. You look like a professional soccer player, a mom said.

When Coach Jeremy gives his instructions, you look straight at him, listen intently, with the frown you inherited from me, and perform, as instructed.  When he asks your name or the color of your circle, you always answer, and correctly. One of the moms noticed your attentiveness, and said you are so focused! At daycare, on the other hand, the teacher said you do your own thing, and don't follow instructions always. Your teacher in your old daycare would disagree. She used to tell me how you would listen, watch and do everything she used to teach you. Then at home, we would practice the things you learned - building with blocks, Beethoven's deafness, Christopher Columbus and his insistence that the world is round...You are an awesome girl. When there is something to learn, you are all focused and interested. Your current daycare is not the most educational place, so I'm not surprised you drift away.

At soccer, you kick the ball, catch bubbles, play run-and-freeze, build towers with cones and kick them to the ground. We also try to wake up Fred the little soccer mouse by kicking the ball to the walls surrounding the play area.

Soccer is not news to you, since you grew up watching papa play, and always had a ball in your room that we played at home, in the yard, and in parks.

On Monday nights it's papa's turn to play soccer. Last Monday was his first game. We played, read books, and went to bed. Just as you were drifting away, you asked sleepily "where is papa?" "He went to play soccer," I said, and you started crying like it was the end of life.

"I want to play soccer, I want to play soccer."
"You play on Sundays, papa plays on Mondays."
"I want to play now!"
"Papa plays outside, it's cold and dark..."

Nothing I said calmed you down and you cried on. I cuddled with you and eventually you fell asleep. this past Sunday, we went on a trip to an island, so we had to skip soccer. Papa and i made sure not to say or do anything that could remind you of your Sunday practice. Next Sunday is just a few days away.

Love,

Mommy.