You Have to Be Friendly About This

Zoe went through a little phase where she seemed to be telling everyone (even the cashier at the grocery store or the librarian), "You're poopy!" or some other variation.

It was rather rude for a while there. And embarrasing. So I made an effort, whenever holding Zoe or walking with her or waiting in line with her, to run through a line of nice phrases. I would usually say them to her and she'd echo back, and we both gleefully giggled. Here are some samples:

-You're nice
-You're pretty
-You're my friend
-I like you
-I like your hair (clothes, dress, shirt, shoes, etc.)
-You're friendly

The last one is her special favorite. When, at family night a few weeks back, we spent a moment to each say what we loved about each family member, Zoe declared that she loved Guy because, "He's friendly." (I was impressed she was paying attention to the activity at all.)

Well, just a few minutes ago I was in the kitchen preparing the bread dough to go into the pans. I had some flour spinkled on the counter and the flour canister open next to me as I divided and kneaded the dough.

Zoe pulled up a chair and climbed up. With a sidelong look and raised eyebrows, she said, "Mom, you have to be friendly about this..." and then tentatively began to scoop flour out of the canister with a big 1-cup scoop. One of her favorite games is to get some flour and spend plenty of time stirring, measuring, and scooping it with small spoons, but I wasn't in the mood to clean it up.

"Zoe, this isn't a good time for you to help. Don't take any flour!"

"Mom! You're not being friendly!" she retorted. And I realized, she was probably right. In the end, the bread was baked, the flour was cleaned up, and we read a nice friendly bedtime story together.

I just hope she doesn't come to me when she's sixteen and begin with, "Mom, you have to be friendly about this...."